Mercenary
by fourleafedrover
Summary: Paid by S.H.I.E.L.D. the Merc with a Mouth gets charged to protect Vanessa O'Conelly: the 26 year old assistant to Governor Ray Thorton and trophy girlfriend of Senator Gregory Killibrew both of which S.H.I.E.L.D suspects to be behind the recent apocalyptic events of New York City. (see profile for more info)
1. Chapter 1

The sound of the intercom on her desk crackling to life startled Vanessa O'Conelly from her 3:00 pm daydream.

"Vanessa?"

With a sigh of relief she rubbed the want-of-sleep from her watering eyes and pressed the speak button on the console, "Governor Thorton?"

"I'm sending the Mayor out."

She did a little spin of joy in her wheeled desk chair, jumping up and running in her kitten-heels across the exquisitely laid wood flooring, past the rows of cubicles and stopping at the double doors at the end of the hall. She straightened her skirt, and grasped her clipboard to her chest with regained poser. The door cracked open.

"I'll be seeing you here September third then, Mayor Bloomberg?"

"Indeed you will," the portly little mayor bowed out of the office smiling at her on his way out, "Lovely to see you again, Vanessa."

"Did you get that down?" Governor Thorton turned to her as she was scribbling away on the clipboard.

"Yes sir!" she said beaming at them, "Lovely seeing you as well, Mayor Bloomberg, tell your wife I look forward to seeing her at the Gala tonight."

The Mayor waggled a finger at her, "Keep her close, Ray, this one's a gem! Pray you, let her come teach my assistant a thing or two?"

"Not a chance, Michael! She's all mine. We'll see you this evening."

Vanessa followed Governor Raymond Thorton into his office, closing the door behind her as he filled a crystal tumbler on his mahogany desk with aged scotch. She watched in silence as he raised the liquid to his lips, its burnt orange color matched the hue of his graying hair almost exactly.

"Ray?"

"Vanessa?" his tone was playful, crows feet played at his eyes as he took another drink.

"It's three can I-"

He waved her off with a thickly callused hand, "Go on, I know how long it takes for women to get ready."

"Thank you!" Vanessa gripped her clipboard tighter to keep calm. She was already late for her hair appointment, "Thank you sir, it's a big night for Greg-"

"Why are you still here?" He chuckled.

Whirling around she tossed one more thank you over her shoulder and skated back down the hall, government office workers jumping out of her way, to retrieve her coat from the entry closet. She folded the crisp Burberry jacket, a gift from Senator Gregory Killibrew, over her forearm, pushed in her chair and headed into the hall. With a newly manicured nail, she pressed the crystalline button on the wall, the door opened with an elegant "ding!" and glided into the gilded elevator, heels clacking slightly on the mirrored floor.

A sleek black sedan awaited her below, prepared to whisk her away to the salon and her dress fitting at Dior. As she settled into the heated leather interior she contemplated, not for the first time, her luck that she had gotten the job as Thorton's assistant at the precise moment Greg had chosen to run for Senator. He has strolled out of the elevator wearing a pressed Armani suit, his dark hair slicked back just so and asked her to dinner before she could open her mouth.

Almost a seven months had passed since that day and she still marveled over the perks that came with dating one of New York's most wealthy senators. The coat, the car, the _dress_: yes, perks indeed.

However, Greg had been so much more than a senator to her: he had swept her off her feet, hand delivering flowers to the office and dressing her in Dolce, De La Renta and Chanel. He had flown her to see her mother when she was in the hospital, rescued her from days traveling the subway and cooking ramen noodles in a tiny apartment.

These things made every public event, every moment calming him down from a rage about voters, worth it. Which is why she would look her best, be her best, at the Lucifer House Gala tonight.

As the car pulled up to Dior on 57th, she looked quickly in her hand mirror, running her hands through her long strawberry blonde hair. Yes, tonight she would be the very vision of perfect for the Senator.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours later, Vanessa was deposited in front of the New York Palace dressed in a sheath of champagne silk, her hair swept up in an elegant bun and her hand resting tentatively on her phone, awaiting the Greg's call. She paused nervously for a moment on the red carpet that led through the main gates as she was helped out of the car by a white-gloved docent in a tuxedo.

"Miss O'Conelly," he said in a reassuring tone, "Senator Killibrew is awaiting you inside.

She gave a polite smile, "Thank you."

As soon as she had passed the docent there was a flurry of blinding flashes. The paparazzi wouldn't miss an event like this, too much money had been donated to helping New York's homeless. Vanessa paused to pose for photo before continuing as gracefully as possible into the foyer.

There he was, standing at the top of the grand stair, a vision in his custom fit tux. Her heart lit a little as she saw him, but she regained her poise, hiking up her dress to greet him.

"Hello," Greg's dark eyes flashed with pleasure as he leaned in to kiss her cheek, "You look absolutely stunning."

A flush crept up her cheeks as she took his arm, "What do you think of the dress?"

He gave a non-committing shrug that made Vanessa's heart sink into her six-inch heels, "It's alright, I guess."

"You guess? Gregory, this is Dior."

He shrugged again, "All I'm saying is it could use a little something."

"Dior doesn't need anything! It's Di-"

She stopped in her tracks because had pulled out a wide velvet box.

"What's this?"

She let out a little gasp as the box was opened, revealing a decadent string of diamonds, glittering like ice in the Hotel's carefully chosen lighting.

"Dior isn't worthy of you, Vanessa," he said softly, "The Tiffany's Victoria Collection might come a bit closer, however."

"_Oh_ Greg," she whispered, turning so he could clasp the diamonds around her neck, "They're beautiful."

"As are you, now stand back!" he eyed the diamonds, "Perfect."

He offered her his arm and they adjourned to the grand ballroom, Vanessa reassured by the warmth of him through his jacket. She swooned slightly as they entered the Gala, crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, crown molding glistening with gold leaf, the walls soft blues and pinks that soaked up the gold like a sunset. The sweet music of a live orchestra was playing at a reasonable tone. Hundreds of Dior dresses were passing her by, hundreds of tuxedo wearing billionaires she had yet to meet.

Her hand played nervously at her collarbone, as they were escorted to their table, stroking the diamonds for comfort and finding none. It had never quite settled into her soul, this life of glitz and glamour that so many wanted to possess. In fact, it made Vanessa feel rather small. And yet, she did her duty to this lifestyle, shaking the hands of the congressmen, dukes, celebrities, and mayors that sat at the crisp, white table.

After a blur of rapid introductions was an exquisite meal she hardly remembered to taste suddenly there was a tinkling of glass. Governor Thorton was climbing the stairs to the podium, where he struggled to adjust the microphone to his towering height. A metallic tinning filled the room as the microphone came to life.

"It seems the population of New York is growing shorter!" Thorton's grizzly voice boomed across the ballroom, now mingling with laughter. He cleared his throat.

"I'd like to welcome you all to our annual Gala and to thank you, from the state of New York, for being here. Without further adieu, Senator Killibrew."

There was a burst of applause as Greg took the stage, throwing his well-practiced senator's smile back at them.

"I'll admit," he said readjusting the microphone, "I don't have the same problem as Governor Thorton."

Vanessa moaned at the reused joke eternally, the crowd bursting again with laughter.

"Again, thank you all for coming," Silence filled the room as he gestured to his captivated audience, "Today is a very important day for me, and as some of you may know, a very important day for the city of New York. Today the streets are swept clean of eighty-five percent of veterans, recovering drug-addicts and those who could simply use a shoulder to lean on in this economy. Today, my friends, my vision for a better home for New York's homeless, is complete," a silk sheet was lifted over a model of large yellow manor, "The Lucifer's House for the Homeless!" There was hearty rush of applause, "I could not have done this without my beautiful best friend and lover," the Senator reached out a hand in her direction, and she felt her heart jump into her throat, "Vanessa O'Conelly. Nor could I have done it without our generous donor! It is my greatest privilege to introduce to you the man who made all of this possible, ladies and gentlemen: Anthony Stark."

A handsomely tanned man with a well-kept goatee and three-piece suit stood up and removed the aviator-framed glasses he had been wearing with a flourish. The audience once again burst with applause as he took the stage to shake the Senator's hand.

"That's the guy?" Vanessa raised her artfully plucked eyebrows as Greg took his seat, "He came in with at least three women. How much did he donate?

He settled back into his chair and whispered to her, "Two million."

She let out a low whistle.

Greg smirked, "He owns Stark Industries, you didn't recognize the name?"

"Still, two million dollars?"

"Weapons manufacturing is not a very fickle business," he said with a soft chuckle, "He hired his secretary to run the entire Industry, that's her over there sitting with the Strategic Homeland Intervention."

She gaped at an extremely busty woman with dyed red hair; her sleek black dress had a dangerously high slit, "Holy cleavage, Batman!"

Greg grimaced, "No not her, the other red-head."

Behind the busty woman was indeed another, although natural, redhead with a pointed face and a neat heather-grey dress.

"Since her raise, Stark Industries has taken a turn for the generous."

Vanessa picked an olive out of her martini, and watched Stark stroll the stage with an unmistakable swagger of money in his step, "Is this the guy who gallivants around in a suit of amour?"

"The same. He's a brilliant mind."

She chewed on her olive. Two million dollars or no, wearing a suit of armor around Miami was a bad idea. But indeed he knew his game well, the women sitting around their table were dabbing their eyes with napkins as he finished his speech and left the stage.

The music swelled louder, dinner plates were cleared away. Waiters in white began to mingle about, holding shining silver platters towering with full champagne flutes. The Mayor Bloomberg and his wife swayed elegantly out onto the dance floor, followed by several other couples.

"Come," Greg took her hand, "I want to introduce you to some friends of mine."

He led her around the dance floor for a time before being caught up in a discussion about politics with a handsome young man wearing a military uniform. Excusing herself politely, she retreated to the nearest table, where the neat looking redhead Greg had pointed out to her early sat talking rapidly on her phone.

"Tell James Pepper said he's not allowed to bring anyone into the Special Project's Division, I don't care if it's take your child to work day," she said under her breath, bringing a hand to her forehead and sighing, "Tony no longer has the power to authorize those decisions, sir. I'll speak with him myself," she looked up, seeing Vanessa standing there, "Ah, here he is now! I have to go. Yes. _I really must be going_, bye."

"May I sit down?"

"Please do."

Vanessa took two glasses of champagne from the waiter passing and handed one to her, "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all, you have no idea how much grief you just saved me."

"Busy day?"

"You have no idea. Victoria," the other woman said holding out her hand.

"Vanessa."

Victoria laughed, "I see you also come from the age of Victorian name revival?"

"Unfortunately. Though it seems I'm in the right place for snobbish designation."

She received an easy going smile from Victoria, "First Gala?"

Vanessa nodded, taking sip of fizzing liquid.

"It doesn't get much easier," she chuckled at Vanessa's pained face, "Sorry to say. I've been to hundreds and yet I still forget to wear deodorant."

They laughed about this for a moment, when the Senator appeared at Vanessa's side.

"Care to dance?" he said, looking a little tense.

"Sure," she stood up, "It was nice meeting you Victoria, it's not often we get to connect with normal people is it?"

"Call me Pepper," Victoria's smile made her freckles raise on her even skin, "And listen, if you ever need anything, more normalcy, a drink, _anything_: here's my card."

Vanessa took it with a smile, and was led away by Greg.

"Making friends already?" he said as they swayed across the dance floor.

She sighed happily as the scent of his cologne washed over her, leaning her head against his, "Trying to."

"Might I cut in?"

They both turned to find Anthony Stark waiting there. Greg chuckled, "Not at all. Just have her back by midnight."

"Good evening, Vanessa," the billionaire said as he laid a hand on her hip and took her hand. He smelled like cologne and vanilla lotion. The stench of success, she thought, suppressing a giggle.

"Mister Stark."

"Please," he said with a coy grin, "Call me Tony."

She gave him her sweetest smile, "Well then, Tony, I'd like to thank you personally for making the Senator's dream come to life tonight."

"I bet you would."

It was somewhat of a bitter statement; Vanessa didn't know what to make of it.

"It looks like you've been enjoying your evening," he said coolly.

She attempted to recover from the offense with a small laugh, "It's a lovely night, I'm so glad they picked the Palace for the occasion-"

"I see the glow of wonderment in your eyes, Miss O'Conelly, all of us have been in your shoes at one point or another," they were moving slightly away from the rest of the dancers now. With a shy glance away from him, Vanessa looked around for Greg. He was nowhere in sight.

"I'm not sure I understand you, Mister Stark."

Tony grinned at someone who passed by, giving them a slight nod of his head but keeping his tone stoic, "Wealth requires defensive warfare, Miss O'Conelly. This lifestyle may appear to be comfortable, but I assure you, if you get too cavalier with your opulence, you might be in for a real... _shock_."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She said, drawing way from him, she could feel an anxious look blooming across her face. Greg finally came back into eyesight, walking rather rapidly towards her, watching her face carefully as it turned from polite smile to disturbance. Tony, sensing this, turned her away from Greg and leaned quickly into her ear.

"Be careful who you trust."

"Ah, Greg, I suppose you're back for your date," Tony winked as he passed Vanessa off into his arms, "I trust you'll both have a safe evening."

"And you as well, Mister Stark," Greg said, but he had already melted into the crowd, "Everything okay?"

"Anthony Stark is quite the dick," she said, still staring at the place in the mass he had vanished into.

"Yes well," Greg smirked, "None of us like him all that well, but the man has the mind for weaponry. If only he would get off this little 'save the world' kick of his."

"Offensive warfare," she mumbled

"Hm?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking of the time. I feel like I've had too much champagne," she put her hand to her brow momentarily, rubbing out the stress lines she felt developing.

Greg winked at her, moving his lips to her ear, "I think I've had a little too much as well."

In truth, she felt a little dizzy. But the Senator rarely came home feeling anything but tired, preferring to shovel down dinner and have a stiff drink rather than pre-sleep lovemaking. And besides, after her little encounter with Stark Industries she'd rather be anywhere but here, so she gave his arm a little squeeze and led him off to get their coats.

When they returned to the modern loft Greg and she accompanied he tore off their clothes, pushing her down on the bed and climbing on top of her. She listened to his gasps and grunts as he relieved himself from his sexual tension, his chest pounding heavily against her chin.

When it was over, the Senator's breathing was deep, and even she lay there in the dark trying to remember a time that he had made her feel loved. In the end, she fell asleep, because all she could remember was his money.

Maybe Stark was right, with the spotlight turned off a lavish life, all that was left were shades of grey.


	3. Chapter 3

After the opening of the Lucifer House life slowed to a normal pace: Vanessa worked from nine to five and the Senator took a trip downstate where the voters were more indecisive. Her long lunches, usually spent with Greg, were now empty spaces to be filled. Throughout the week, she had eaten with a few friendly faces at the Governor's office. But with an election approaching political conversation was less than friendly, and the thought of sitting with a group of over-opinionated 40-somethings had her rushing for the cafe down the street for privacy.

She ordered a latte and sat at a tiny two-person table by the window, unfolding her newspaper to the scan the front page.

APOCOLYPSE NOW?

STORM SURGES, MASKED MEN

DAYLIGHT SHOOTINGS!

"The city overcome," she read under her breath, "by signals of the end. Read more about how you can protect yourself on page eight."

Vanessa snorted as she threw the paper aside, "Apparently the Times is the new Daily Enquirer."

The barista yelled her named over the screech of the cappuccino machine and she jumped up to receive her coffee, knocking her newspaper off the edge of the table and gritting her teeth as a scalding blue mug was pressed into her hands. She wobbled back on her heels, carefully conscious of the swaying liquid her cup contained. Then, with less grace she blew as hard as she could to cool the coffee within.

"You uh, you dropped your paper."

Vanessa lifted her eyes from her blowing to find an extremely tall man standing next to her table, holding her folded newspaper. She stared.

"Thanks," she said a little too hastily, taking it and immediately sweeping her eyes away from him in good manner. Horrendous scars covered the surface of his face, save for the black glasses that covered his eyes. Cursing herself for letting her eyes linger, she opened her mouth to apologize for being rude but he beat her to the talking.

"You're Senator Killibrew's wife. Miss O'Conelly, is it?"

Vanessa's hands flew to her face in feign surprise, "Goodness, I must have missed the wedding!"

She gathered the courage to look back up at him. He looked a little strained after hearing her pun.

"Kidding," she laughed and held out a hand for him to shake, "It's Vanessa. And only his girlfriend, that I'm aware of."

"Pardon me, Vanessa. In my defense, it's an easy mistake to make the way he speaks of you."

She frowned, "Have we met?"

In all reality, however, there was no way she would have forgotten him if she had been introduced. He was easily six foot tall, fair-haired, and largely muscled under his neat black dress shirt. He had obviously been in some sort of terrible accident. One, however, that had left a strong jaw and a gorgeous white smile perfectly in tact.

"His speech from the Lucifer's Gala was on television."

"Ah," she said with a little bob of her head, "That explains it."

"Mind if I join you? I'm doing my masters in Political Science over at Columbia and I'm a huge fan of the Senator."

"Please," she pulled her purse off the second seat. It wasn't often she got to speak to one of Greg's fans on a personal level. This was her chance to make an impact.

"So what is you do," he said with a chuckle," besides serve as the senator's arm candy at royal balls?"

"I'm actually Governor Thorton's assistant."

His eyebrows raised behind his glasses, "Impressive!"

"Thanks," she stirred sugar into her latte, "I've dappled in political science myself. Columbia's a good school," she offered politely.

He smirked in return, "I know what you're thinking, _this_ guy's a little old to be in college. I got a late start," he wrapped the string of his tea bag around his finger and shrugged, widening his smile, "And I've got to confess, I would love the opportunity to interview the Governor for my master's discussion."

She bit her lip; "It takes a while to get an appointment with him, honestly."

"How long?"

"Six months."

"Ouch!" he grimaced, "Busy man, I guess."

Guilt pooled in her stomach, "I wish I had the power to pull some strings for you, but his meetings are organized by priority," she winced the second the words left her mouth, "N-Not that your school is of little importance."

His booming laugh filled the coffee shop, "Oh I see how it is! Well, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Can I get an interview with you? You wait on him hand and foot right? You must have some idea of what's going on in there," he gestured to his temple.

She pursed her lips.

"Sure why not. I've got some time Monday at one, why don't you stop by then."

"You're my hero."

The slight warmth of flattery crawled up her neck, as she pulled out her pocket calendar, "Well, I've got to get back to work. Let me just pencil you in here."

"Oh sure, of course," he stood up, gathering his jacket. She looked suddenly up from her writing, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. Who can I put you down as?"

"Wilson comma Wade," he said with another grin, "See you Monday."

She watched him duck out of the cafe and stride away. Talk about a confidence boost, she thought to herself as she gathered her things smiling. Next comment her mother made about her political science degree being based on gold-digging she would remember this moment. Young, buff, college students thought she was cool. Take that mom.

It was a short walk down Barclay St. to the Municipal building so she dawdled a little, taking her last ten minutes to enjoy the last warmth of the season. She smiled at a large group of tourists hurrying across the cross walk, and turned onto Park, freezing in her tracks.

A group of NYPD had gathered around the street, barricading Park and her route to work.

"Hey!" she walked up to the at the nearest officer, "I need to get through to City Hall. What's going on?"

The cop shook his head, "No can do, lady. Earthquake down this way caused some damage to the plumbing, you'll have to go around," he turned away and pulled out a walkie-talkie.

"I'm a government employee!" Vanessa pulled her ID out of her wallet, shoving it in-between his eyes and the hand-held he was about to speak into. He gave her a look of irritation.

"It's an earthquake lady," he said, his mustache bristling, "Like I said before, _you'll have to go around_."

He clicked the talk button, muttering into it as he walked away from her.

"Damn," she chewed her lip in exasperation. Now she was going to be late for the Thorton's appointment. She took out her phone to call him, glancing at the screen and finding it dead, "DAMN."

Broadway was also closed off so her only choice was to turn around and take the long way down Church. She hurried back down Barclay, heels grinding her ankles to blisters and cursing herself for lollygagging after the encounter in the cafe.

"Damn you hubris, OUCH, damn you young, buff, Columbia guy."

Her curses were drowned out by a loud grumbling coming from below her feet.

"What the-?"

She paused just in time: the world bounced briefly, her heels trembled clear off the sidewalk, sending her running for the nearest doorway. Another earthquake. She reached down and removed her high heels, shielding her head from the bit of glass that fell from the windows above.

Vanessa debated options, her heart thumping hard in her chest. She could stay here under the safety of this door way. But Church was just a street ahead, a busier street at that, she could find police there and ask them for a safe place to wait out the trembling from below. Since the birds had begun chirping again, she decided this was her best option, cautiously creeping out of the doorframe in her bare feet. Just as she made the decision, chaos ensued ahead. The citizens of New York were tearing through the streets, the sound of screams becoming louder as she closed in on a horrific scene.

Church Street had been rent in two. Concrete blocks from the neatly laid sidewalks were now rubbish piles thrown against the nearby buildings, a gaping hole exposed in the asphalt where it had buckled under the pressure of the quake. There were bodies in the street.

Vanessa ran through the fleeing crowd onto the street, raising her arm to shield her face from the thick cloud of debris in the air. She paused at the first fallen person she found, a grown man, checking for a pulse. Nothing. She tripped backwards, gagging, and was thrown aside by a crowd of screaming people.

"Hey!" she screamed, scraping her hands on the concrete as she scrabbled to stand again. For god's sake, there was no need to panic; the earth was still once more.

Then she heard the unmistakable bang of a gun being fired.

For from under the city streets a man was emerging, his face concealed by a woolen mask, his thick hands wrapped tightly around a rifle. It was at that moment she realized that the street around her was silent and empty: she was alone, staring down the barrel of a masked mans gun. She found her sore feet glued to the surface of the torn asphalt; any thought of running had left her as she froze like a rabbit hunted by a cat.

The terrorist stared at her, raising his gun as he crunched across the debris towards her. Vanessa could almost read his expression as his eyes traveled over her, "That's it? This is the pathetic stand New York has taken?"

His smile grew beneath his ski mask. She could feel her heart stopping already, a dull roaring claimed her ears. The last thing she would ever hear, she thought fleetingly.

A Helicopter.

The roaring of the helicopter was so loud she clamped her ears over her head. The man with the gun looked momentarily perplexed, gun slackening in his hands as the machine flew in hard and fast.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!"

Vanessa turned to find the source of the voice and screamed, ducking as a blur of red and black hurtled over her head. Another masked man was dropping from the sky.

He hit the asphalt with a loud crunch and stalked towards ski-mask who raised his gun warily.

"Shoulda checked the weather today, folks," he said in a perfect newscaster's voice, "Forecast today cloudy skies and a one hundred percent chance of _Deadpool_," he ducked out of the way of assailing bullets and kicked the gunman square in the chest.

Vanessa let out a scream as the gunman flew back, his gun going off with a bang and cracking his head on a piece of uprooted concrete.

This new threat turned at the sound of her voice. He was dressed in a ridiculous sort of costume, tight fitting with heavy boots and a full artillery belt slung low on his muscular hips. Two sleek katana swords were strapped to his back. His face was masked in a red stocking mask; two black spots surrounded the phosphorescent glow of his eyes, giving him the appearance of a deranged raccoon. And as he caught sight of her, the spot where his eyebrow would have been raised in shock, "Holy..."

Vanessa was still rooted to the ground in horror as he approached her.

"Uh, hey pretty lady," he held up his spread hands, "This isn't what it looks like. I'm a bonafide gentleman usually. I swear. Really."

"You stay away from me," Vanessa's voice shook as she raised her hands to guard herself.

"I mean, on the other hand, we could just consider this awkward encounter the perfect opportunity to get to know each other. I could just get your number and then we could share a plate of nachos at this little place I know and then go back to your place and-"

Another gunman had immerged from the gash in the city streets, cocking his gun with a loud click. The man in red held out a hand to them.

"Where are your manners? There is a lady present. Plus I'm trying to seduce her so if you don't mind."

He turned back to her, "As much as I would love to get a piece of that action," he said pointing down at her with both of his gloved fingers curled at his chest, "You gotta leave."

The man on the left screamed out in an indiscernible language and released half a magazine of bullets into the air.

"Fine, okay. We can skip nachos. But really, time to get cho' bitch ass outta here."

He cocked his hip and pulled out a handgun.

"YO! EARTH TO LITTLE LADY," he waved his gun in her face, "Alright enough is enough."

He reached around, grabbed her by her rear and shoved her into motion. It was enough to make Vanessa remember how to move. She turned around and punched him in the middle of his masked face. He yelled, as her hand crunched into what she assumed was his nose, hands flying up to access the damage.

There was a bang as the guns went off for a second time and suddenly she could see right through her assaulters' forehead. Blood was flooding down his mask, pooling in the hollows of his eyes.

Vanessa gaped, stepping back as he swayed in place.

But instead of dropping dead, he whirled around, held up his gun, and shot the man down.

"DAMNIT, Fury is going to kill me," he poked her in the shoulder, "See what happens when you don't listen to Deady?" he said pointing at the bleeding bullet hole in his head. Then suddenly the world was suddenly spinning, lights flickering at the corners of Vanessa's eyes. She toppled over in a dead faint.

"OH COME ON, I have tickets to see Hannibal the-at-re tonight."

He pulled a cell phone out of his utility belt and pressed a few numbers, raising it to his ear with a drawn out sigh. A crowd was starting to gather at the scene of the crime.

"Hey Nicky! So, I uh, got the dead chick if you wanna come get me now..."

He held the phone away from his ear as a slurry of curse words spilled out of the receiver.

"Ohhhh you wanted her _alive_," he gave Vanessa a kick in the arm with his boot, "Yeah well, she looks pretty dead to me."

There was a roar of a helicopter overhead, "Just kidding, Fury, she's alive! Kay, I love you, bye. SAY IT BACK," he shouted over the screams reverberating from the phone, "SAY IT BACK. SAY. IT. BACK," and he chucked the cell to the ground, swinging Vanessa's body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Ugh, _women_," he said at her lifeless body, stepping into the helicopter as it touched down to carry them away.


	4. Chapter 4

The distant sounds of the city reached Vanessa's ears as consciousness seeped into her being. Her hands, leadened by the deepness of her sleep, stirred a little. And then she slowly opened her eyes, wincing a little at the brilliant sun streaming past the large oval object that obstructed her view. Two white eyes blinked back at her.

"Heya, toots!"

"AHH!" Vanessa punched upward into the masked face staring down at her as hard as humanly possible.

"OW!"

As she scrambled to her feet and a wave of lightheadedness swept over her. She grabbed her head and held it steady.

"You have got to break that habit," said the man in red, adjusting his broken nose back into place for the second time.

"What do you want from me?" she said, exasperated, lifting her head from her hands, "And how," she said glancing around her, "did we get up here?"

They were standing on the barren rooftop of an apartment complex, the city of New York gleaming from all sides.

"I thought we could use a little privacy," he waggled his eyebrows at her as he sat on the raised edge of the roof, "Also, you're my latest assignment."

"Excuse me?"

The door to the floors below wasn't far away, Vanessa had half the mind to run for her life. But her kidnapper was stretching out luxuriously on the lip of roof, propping his hands under his head and crossing his feet so she decided to get some questions answered.

"I was paid to protect you."

Her thoughts raced initially to Greg. But while the Senator was extremely wealthy, she doubted he was wealthy enough to send a lunatic in a spandex body suit chasing after her in broad daylight.

"By who?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Sheil-?"

"Strategic Homo Illiterates..." his face screwed up beneath his mask, "Fuck if I know."

Something about the acronym sounded familiar.

"Tony Stark," she said plainly.

"Oh you know him?" he said perking up, "Don't tell me you're a stripper? This day just keeps getting better and better!"

Vanessa gaped at him in disbelief, "No of course I'm not a stripper. I met Stark at the Lucifer House Gala this week."

"Well he thinks you need protection," he said crossing his arms, "And when a multi-billionaire self-proclaimed genius in a locked and loaded suit of iron tells you to protect someone, it's a good idea to get your ass in gear."

"I thought the suit was just a metaphor for being king of the artillery industry."

"The suit is artillery, toots. Man oh man if I could get my hands on some of Stark's weaponry..." he gave a wistful sigh.

"So what's this S.H.I.E.L.D. have to do with anything?"

"Iron Man and his cronies team together to ninja chop evil in the name of Eye-Patch MaGee!"

"Ninja chop earthquakes you mean," she corrected.

His laugh boomed across the rooftop, "Earthquakes? These were planned terrorist attacks sweetums."

She was beginning to put things together now in her head: Stark in his suit of armor, the strange sightings of masked men and women in brightly colored body suits, terrorism, _this_ character in front of her.

"So what are you, like, a superhero?"

He turned to lean on his elbow and winked at her, "If that's what gets your jollies."

She grimaced. He grimaced back.

"I'm no hero."

"Then wha-"

"Mercenary. I don't work for free like those sugar-plum fairies up at S.H.I.E.L.D. I kill whom people want to see dead and I get paid," he said stroking the gun on his hip in an explicit fashion.

"So what you're telling me," she said slowly, "There's an entire geek squad of super heroes cavorting around the country and I'm stuck with _you_?"

"Daddy Deadpool, at your service, kitten," he smacked his own arse, hopping up and doing a little dance around the roof.

"Well I don't need protection, and I want nothing to do with you so if you'll excuse me," she dusted herself and started staunchly off towards the door.

"Er-" Deadpool jumped up and darted in front of her, "No can do, lady, you see, if I don't do my job I don't get paid. Besides," he said with a flourish of his hands, "I just saved your life."

"Fine," she said with a thin lipped smile, "Thank you for your _unnecessary_ services. Now go away."

She stepped around him, concealing how shaken she was by the whole experience, starting towards the door again.

"Well I can see I'm not wanted here," he started towards the edge of the building, "Later, toots."

And with that he jumped.

Vanessa stifled a scream and hurtled to the edge. And there he was: sailing away into a distant window suspended by a grappling hook.


	5. Chapter 5

Vanessa felt very far away as she stared into the oblivion that was New York City from the roof of an apartment high-rise. A fallish wind was picking up from the south off Lower Bay and it rushed straight through the newly torn holes of her cashmere cardigan, tousling the dirty hem of her skirt. She wrapped her arms around herself, unsure of what to do. What does one do after a miraculous escape from an attempted terrorist attack? She pulled the hem of her skirt down and resolutely decided that there was no going back to work.

Barefooted now, her Jimmy Choo peep-toes long lost in the skirmish, she crossed the barren roof to the door downstairs and hauled it open. To her surprise, an instantly recognizable hardwood hall met her. She hit the button for the eighth floor in the elevator and as it slid open soundlessly, she gasped with relief at the sight of her apartment door. Kneeling on the floor, not thinking to worry about her now run-ridden panty hose, she pried the spare key from under the doormat.

The door to Gregory Killibrew's chic eighth floor loft opened with a click, and Vanessa collapsed against it. The apartment was still and empty in his absence; save for the television, which she had carelessly left set to the news as she rushed out that morning. She set the key on the breakfast bar, plugged her cell phone into the wall, and hit the power key.

5 missed calls.

She dialed the Governor's office and prayed for the best.

"Hello?"

"Jean?" said Vanessa, recognizing the voice of the pudgy cubicle worker that took the Governor's calls when she wasn't in, "It's Vanessa."

"Vanessa! Oh my gosh, are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine," she said, puzzled, "Just calling to let the Governor know I couldn't get back because of the earthquakes-"

"Vanessa, you're on the news!"

"_What_?"

She yanked her phone from the wall and crossed to the living area. On the television was a bird's eye view of her facing down the gunman. Underneath the footage was a bar that labeled her as an "unknown civilian." Hardly listening to Jean rambling in her ear, she picked up the remote and unmuted the volume.

"The attacks have ceased since this mornings outbreak," said the newscaster, "Governor Thorton and the New York Police department assure us that the subway and sewer systems are being guarded twenty-four hours a day to prevent future infiltration."

The footage switched to Governor Thorton standing upon a podium, publically thanking the NYPD.

"Next, learn how to protect yourself from attacks such as these..."

Vanessa wasn't listening anymore. Thankfully, they had left out the part where a spandex-wearing mercenary had swept out of the sky and kidnapped their "unknown civilian."

"Vanessa?"

"Sorry Jean," she sighed, "I'm alright. I'm fine. The police got there just in time. Listen, I've got to go, just let the Governor know what happened."

"Oh you poor thing, of course I will."

Her phone died again that second and she tossed away, heading to the bathroom, pulling off her clothing as she went.

It was a solid thirty minutes before she emerged from the shower overheated and exhausted. When the steam cleared, she was still standing there in the bathroom, staring at her distorted reflection. She wished today had never happened.

At that moment, the events of the morning caught up with her, and she succumbed to the tears that rolled down her cheek: tears that should have appeared when she was staring down the barrel of a loaded gun or waking atop the building. How frightened she had been! And to think, some girls dreamt of being swept away by heroes.

At that thought, she opened the mirror, taking out a jar of face lotion and turning the tap to cold. She washed her face clean of tears, patting her skin dry with a fluffy towel and closed the mirror.

There was someone standing behind her.

"Vanessa?"

Vanessa screamed and pressed her back to the sink, her towel slipping halfway down her body. A startled Senator Killibrew stood in the doorway.

"Greg! You scared me half to death!"

He chuckled at her appearance, and she smirked, pulling up her towel and moving to find some undergarments.

"You weren't supposed to be back from the country for another two days."

"I didn't expect you to be home," he said setting down his suit-coat and suitcase on the bed, "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well I'm certainly surprised!" she said, pulling a camisole over her head, "How are the voters?"

He was taking dress shirts out of his suitcase now, hanging them on the back of the bedroom door for dry cleaning.

"What?" he looked confused for a moment as he took a book out from underneath his clothing, "Oh they're alright. Fickle, as always."

"Light reading?" she giggled at the physics textbook he was holding.

He laughed, "You know me."

She did, and so did the people of New York. Senator Killibrew's was known for his unusual choice in post-graduate programs: PhD in physics and political science at Cornell University. It had gotten him nicknamed the Dr. of Politics by every new station in the country.

"I've got some bad news," he said casually, setting his suitcase aside.

"What's that?"

"I've got a conference in Ohio, which is why I cut the tour so short."

"When?"

"I leave Sunday morning."

Vanessa tried her hardest not to look disappointed, "Oh."

Greg gave her a pat on the shoulder, "You'll be okay," he said as he passed, "We've got dinner reservations at eight.

"Alright," she said quietly, pushing in her dresser drawer. She stood there for a moment, listening to him fidgeting about in the kitchen, thinking.

Another week alone, she thought, biting her lip, another week of an empty apartment, a half-empty, king sized bed. After her day, it was a terrifying thought. She did not wish to spend her evenings with the doors locked up, the windows drawn, and hiding under her sheets. On the other hand, she decided telling him about her day might make him stay, and she'd rather face her silly fears rather than upset his career.

Her eyes wandered to the stack of miscellaneous rubbish that she took out of her pockets each day. Among the receipts, tangled bits of jewelry and hair elastics, a metallic silver business card was just visible. It was time to put these fears to rest.

"You coming?" said Greg, peering around the door with remote in hand.

"You go ahead," she said, picking up the house phone, and closing the door, "I've got to make a call."

Vanessa dialed Virginia Pott's number and put the phone to her ear.

There was a short dial tone.

"Stark Industries."

There was a short pause as Vanessa gathered her wits: at first, she thought she was talking to an automated system.

"H-Hello?"

"Pepper is not currently available, miss," the voice said, "May I direct you to her voicemail?"

"Um," she debated her options, "Can I speak to Tony, please?"

"Paging Mr. Stark," the voice said, "Mr. Stark is not currently available, would you like me to record a message, Miss O'Conelly?"

"How did you know my-" she shook her head, "Never mind. Yes. Have Pepper call me back. Please," she added after a pause.

"As you wish, Miss O'Conelly. Would that be all?"

"Yes," she sighed and sat on the bed.

"Thank you for calling Stark Industries, have a pleasant day."

All that was left to do was wait.


	6. Chapter 6

Monday came sooner than Vanessa had hoped. As anticipated, she had spent her first night alone with every light in the apartment turned on and slept with her cell phone curled in her hand. But the bright morning sun brought a new hope, and although she dressed with puffy eyes, work offered a distraction from the Senator's absence.

She arrived at the Municipal building with a confident smile, hoping to dispel any questions about the events of the prior week. However, to her surprise the office was running business as usual, she didn't receive more than a couple of polite head nods as she entered.

In fact, she felt like she was being ignored.

She sat at her desk and opened her planner. It was then she heard the squeaking in the usually empty cubical behind her. Ignoring the disturbance, she picked the phone off the hook and dialed her voicemail. The squeaking increased. Frowning, she put the phone back on the hook.

Jean passed her desk.

"Morning Jea-"

The portly blond gave her a curiously timid smile and kept walking.

"Or not..."

The noise from the cubicle behind her was now so annoying she stood up resolutely and walked around to peer in.

"What is going on in here-"

And there he was, clad head to toe in red spandex, spinning round and round in the desk chair with his feet pulled up to his chest.

Vanessa's jaw dropped.

Deadpool stopped spinning, "Oooh pencil skirt, kinky!"

"Are you seriously following me?" she hissed.

"Chill out, toots," he leaned back in his chair and put his booted feet up on the abandoned desk, "Just doin' my job. And gettin' paid."

She glared at him.

"Oh come on I saved you from certain doom, this is the part where you thank me with sexual favors."

His eyes glazed over as he said this.

"God UGH you are such a-" Vanessa lowered her clenched hands and took a deep breath, "Listen, I don't need your protection, I don't need ANYONE'S protection. I'm not going to run into terrorists in the streets again any time soon so if you'll just _please_ leave."

"Are you giving me permission," he said sitting up, "To pawn this then?"

He pulled the string of diamonds Senator Killibrew had given her on the steps of the New York palace out of a pouch on his waist. She had been wearing them when he saved her last week. She snatched them out of his hand.

"Get. Out."

The moment she pointed to the door the elevator dinged open and the Governor of New York strolled in.

She panicked and dropped beneath the top of the cubicle, cramming herself in between the desk and his desk chair.

His eyes widened as she dropped between his knees, "I like where this is going."

Vanessa snarled and grabbed him by the ear. He growled.

"THIS ISN'T WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY I LIKE IT ROUGH!"

"I swear to God if I lose my job because of you..."

She dragged him out of the cubicle, pulling him around the row of desks that lined the hallway to the Governor's office. At the end of the aisle she stopped, peering over the printer that was parked there. Thorton was unlocking his office.

"Just wait here until he goes in," she whispered angrily.

He was rubbing his ear gingerly, "Is this how you treat all the guests? Drag them around the office and dump hot coffee on their heads and then-"

"This is the GOVERNOR of New York," she whispered-hissed, "Now if you'll shut up-"

"What am I not good enough to meet your boss? I'll have you know-"

"If you haven't realized you're wearing a body suit."

"THIS is a very expensive uniform," he said gesturing down his body with a look of resentment, "And I wouldn't want to meet your stupid boss anyways. I hate that guy."

She smirked, "I take it your not Republican?"

"Gingers have no souls," he said pointedly, "Hasn't television taught you anything?"

The printer roared to life. They both looked at it in shock.

Jean came round the corner, humming "Tip-Toe Through the Tulips," holding a file folder. She stopped dead when she saw them squatting there, eyes bugging.

Vanessa was at a loss for action, "Er... This is my brother, Jean," she said slowly. Then on a spurt of inspiration she raised a hand and whispered behind it, "_He's not all there_."

She elbowed him in the rib.

"Oof! Wha- OH!" he crossed his eyes and pulled a face, "Durrrrrr."

Jean backed slowly up around the corner.

"Oh thank God," she scuttled around the printer and started towards the elevator.

"So crazy idea," Deadpool said as she pushed him into the elevator, "You and me get a drink sometime," she reached around into the elevator car and pressed the ground floor button, "I mean I'm a little low on cash right now so let's just say you'll pay this time and then-

The elevator doors were closing.

"No, no you're totally right let's just call a rain check on the drink and INSTEAD pick a bottle of Jack up from the corner and go to town-"

She smiled cynically at him as the doors to the elevator shut in his face, "Bye."

Vanessa hurried back to her desk and delved underneath it, digging under her coat for her purse, hoping to store the diamonds in her wallet.

"Stupid S.H.E.I.L.D. Stupid spandex-wearing OUCH!" she bumped her head as she pulled her purse from under the mess.

"Vanessa?" said a voice from above. She emerged with her hair askew and tights twisted. The man she had met at the coffee shop was standing in front of her desk.

"Hello, Wade," said with a sigh, wielding a fistful of diamonds in one hand and her purse in the other, which happened to be spilling tampons all over her desk.

"Monday at one right?" he said with a look of concern, "Sorry I'm late."

"Oh gosh," she said sweeping her frazzled hair back self-consciously, "No it's fine."

"You alright? I can come back at a later time..."

"No, " she said resolutely as she stuffed the diamonds into her purse, "No let me just... get my act together here. Why don't you just follow me," she said heading back to the empty cubicle. She gestured to the chair, and when he sat, it creaked in protest. She raised a shaky hand to her forehead.

"Um so," she hesitated, "What are we doing again?"

"I'm here for an interview," he chuckled, "And you're getting your act together."

"Right," she laughed, "Too dark in here for you?"

He was still wearing his sunglasses.

"What?"

She pointed, "Do you ever take those things off?"

"Oh," he pushed his glasses up farther on his nose, "I'm blind."

Giving him a searching look she opened her mouth without thinking, "How do you get around so well?"

"I just told you I'm blind and you're asking how I get around?"

"Er..." Vanessa wanted to hide in a hole. Five minutes into their meeting and she had already committed the faux pas of a lifetime.

He burst out laughing, "Partially, blind. Just partially," he pointed to his eyes, "Light sensitivity."

She hid her face in her hands, sure that the heat creeping up it meant it was flooding red, "Jeeze. I am so embarrassed."

"No, really, it's alright. I get it all the time."

"I am so sorry," she said uncovering her face, "Can I request a redo?"

"Sure," his smile widened as he offered her his hand, "I'm Wade Wilson."

"Vanessa," she said shaking it. His rough hand was so large her tiny fingers were swallowed completely. Now that he was here in the scrutinizing florescent lighting of the office, the scarring on his face didn't seem so drastic. Beneath them, she noted with a touch of guilt for Greg, he was quite attractive. He had a thick head of sandy blonde hair that was perfectly tousled, a strong jaw with a once cleft chin and a crooked nose from breaking. The clothes he wore were clean and simple, giving him the appearance of having rolled out of bed looking perfect without really trying. And that wide smile made her stomach turn.

"Hi, Vanessa."

Hearing her name out loud snapped her into focus.

"Hi."

He pulled a notebook and a pen out of his jacket, "Can I ask you a few questions?"

"That's typically the point of an interview."

"Subject resorts to sarcasm..." he muttered aloud, scribbling onto the notepad.

"Hey!" Vanessa laughed. He glanced up and grinned teasingly.

"Alright, alright," he said straightening, "Here's your first question:" he squinted a little at his scrawling handwriting on the page, "How did you begin your career in political science?"

Vanessa bit her lip, "Well I'm only an assistant. It's more of a job than a career."

"One that can lead to very important connections, I presume."

He was right, of course. Vanessa was close with the Governor, he often complimented her on how well she did her job and she had met many politicians this way, many of which knew her by name. She nodded and then wheeled a little bit closer to him.

"Do you want to know the real story?" she said in a low tone, "It's not exactly something appropriate of your discussion."

"Whoa!" his eyebrows soared towards his hairline, "Don't tell me my thesis is going to turn into an exposé on the Governor!?"

"It's not like that!" she felt the color of her skin deepen again, "I had just graduated a few months before and I was waiting tables at this tiny little place in Brooklyn," she laughed, "I had this little black and white television, you know the ones with the antennas?"

"Yeah."

"I would sit on the news channel night after night eating canned soup and watching speech after speech of Thorton's off this crappy little television. One day he came into town, to my school, and since I'm alum I get into lectures for free and I just remember getting so angry-"

"I take it your not a Republican?" he asked with a little smirk. She paused a little, disjointed at such a familiar comment.

"No."

"Sorry continue."

"So I just walked up to him. And I told him that he was an idiot for doing things the way he did."

"Just like that?"

She giggled at his disbelief and shrugged, "Just like that. Or course, being educated and," she sighed, "dare I say it, a great politician, he asked what I thought he should improve on. And so I started listing things."

"So how did you get the job?" He leaned in, interested, his pen slack in his hand.

"He told me I'd make a great secretary and handed me his card. I was sitting in that desk up there next week later."

"You're kidding."

She shook her head.

"I'm impressed," he said, "It's not everyday you find someone so secure in their beliefs they aren't willing to hide it."

"Well," she said quietly, "Mostly I don't know when to keep my mouth shut."

"No," he shook his head a little, "I like that."

Vanessa wanted more. _Really_? she wanted so badly to ask, _you value my opinion?_

"Really," he said. It was a moment before she realized she had spoken the word aloud. They were sitting incredibly close for two people who were supposed to be having a professional interview. She could smack her head against the desk for allowing herself to be flirted into letting her walls down. But there was something so incredibly real about Wade Wilson that made him easy to talk to, easy to trust. Maybe it was his sense of humor, she mused.

"Hiiiii there," Jean poked her head around the cubicle.

Vanessa jumped so high her desk chair wheeled backwards, "Jean!"

"Just coming to say hi! Hiiiiiii!" Jean said talking very slowly and waving two inches in front of his glasses.

"Hi," Wade said, raising an eyebrow.

"What's your name?!"

"Uh, Wade," he offered her a hand but she hugged him instead, thrusting her large, giggling bosom into his face. He let out a little "oof!" as his glasses were crushed into it, "I'm so happy you brought your _very_ _special_ brother Wade in today, Vanessa!"

Vanessa put a hand to her face, "Jean-"

"You're special, aren't you?!"

Wade looked like he was on the verge of hysterics. He grinned, "I'd say so! What do you think Vanessa?"

"Jean we have to go now," she said flatly in reply.

"Come back and visit us again!" Jean gave him another bone crushing hug.

Vanessa covered her face again, and whispered, "Please don't ask."

"Wasn't gonna," he said with a chortle as he realigned his glasses.

Jean bounced out of the cubicle. As soon as she was gone, Vanessa was prepared to grovel.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Do you want to get a drink with me this weekend?"

Vanessa felt the heat crawling up her neck again as she turned what had to be fifty shades of crimson. He was looking at her expectantly.

"You know I'm dating the Senator," she said shyly, trying not to look pleased.

"Well," he shrugged, "It was worth a shot, right?"

The half-way smile he was giving her made her want to dive under the desk.

"I wish I could," she said, "Greg is a great guy."

Wade stood up and gathered his coat, "You're a great girl."

And with that, he walked out.

At five, Vanessa left the Governor's office scowling at the afternoon sun. She was headed straight to the gym for a good, stress-relieving run after the day she'd had. Luckily, it wasn't far from her office.

She turned onto the first block, walking past a stretch of department stores glowing with artificial light. Usually she didn't pay them much attention. But today she did a double take as she passed one of the windows when she noticed the manikin stretched out luxuriously on a velvet day bed and wearing a red and black bodysuit under its vintage Chanel gown. She growled furiously and made a beeline down the block.

On the next street, there was a suspicious looking man wearing a fedora and a trench coat. Holding up the newspaper he hid behind was a pair of giant red-gloved hands.

But it wasn't until Vanessa walked into the gym and saw him sprawled across the top of the reception desk, a horrified receptionist speechless behind the desk, that she lost it.

"Workin' out the bod?"

"STOP FOLLOWING ME!" she howled as she threw her id pass at the dumbfounded receptionist.

"Okay, okay," Deadpool said, "I've just got one question."

She stopped dead on her way to the locker-room, gritting her teeth and turned, "What?"

"Girl, tell me," he said propping up his chin under his elbows, "Where you get dat body from?"

She slammed the locker-room door behind her.

Vanessa furiously dressed into a sports-bra and athletic pants, sweeping her hair back and locking her purse into a locker. With water bottle and mP3 player in hand, she wove through the rows of lockers, out the door and into the gym's electrical equipment room. She sighed with relief as the smell of rubber and sweat greeted her. Plugging in her headphones with one hand, she jumped onto the nearest treadmill and pushed the start button.

She hadn't gotten more than five minutes in when the battery on her iPod died. With a grumble, she stopped the treadmill and removed her headphones. _Fine_, she thought, _they usually play good music in here anyways._

Reverberating through the open room was Will-I-Am's _I Got It From My Mama_.

Vanessa chucked her iPod across the gym.


	7. Chapter 7

Aching and furious, Vanessa trudged into her apartment building, pressing the buttons in the elevator begrudgingly. As she unlocked the door, her ears perked up at the sound of music playing in the loft.

"Greg?" she said excitedly over the sound of RUSH's 2112, closing the door behind her.

She rounded the corner.

Her stalker masked vigilante was kicked back on the leather sofa, blaring the stereo, eating Gregory's favorite pizza flavored Pringles and reading a physics journal. On the television, an attractive woman was having sex with her well-endowed dentist. Her anger turned to shock.

"Is that porn?" she said weakly.

"Channel 800!" he crossed his ankles.

She crooked her head as she watched the intricate position on the television, "How-?"

"Shhh, just enjoy," he said cheerfully.

"How on earth did you get in here?" she said as her jaw fell slack. Her gym bag and purse fell to the floor helplessly.

He pulled up his mask and shoved a handful of chips into his mouth, "The key was under the mat."

"Touché," she whispered.

After a hard moment of contemplation she spoke, "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Nope."

"And you're not going to tell me why S.H.I.E.L.D. has employed you?"

He flicked to the next page, "Classified."

Vanessa pursed her lips. As much as she wanted to fight this, what more could she do? Once she got a hold of S.H.I.E.L.D. maybe she could talk them into telling her. But for now...

She sat down on the opposite sofa from him and reached for the Pringle can, "Give me those."

He threw it in her general vicinity.

"You're reading that upside down, I hope you know," she gestured to the journal as she popped the can open.

"Hey, I'm learning science!" he said, outraged, "Someone's got to make a living for us, roommate."

"Don't call me that," she said scowling and pulled out a chip, "How's your head feeling?"

"What?"

"You got shot, remember?" she waved her chip at him, "And lived."

"Oh yeah," he flicked another page and peered at the next quizzically, "That one took a while to close up."

Vanessa frowned, "Excuse me if this sounds ignorant but, _why are you not dead?!"_

"I'm trying to learn science," he said irritably.

"So am I!" she exclaimed, "Look if you're not going to tell me about S.H.I.E.L.D. at least tell me about yourself so I have a bit of a reason not to call the police."

"Can't bite the bullet, baby. Breathe my last. Cross the great divide. Give up the ghost-"

"I get it, you can't die. But how is that possible?" she whispered.

"Science!" he exclaimed, "Crazy huh?"

"So you're really, actually, a super hero," she leaned back onto the couch, "Huh. So why don't you have your own gang then?"

"I don't play well with others," he sounded a little bitter.

"I see."

He scratched the back of his head, "More like others don't like to have fun. Bein' dedicated to their work and all that. Stupid."

"So you're not a hero then?"

He fell silent.

"If you're not a hero, what do you do?"

"I kill people," he said over the top of his text-book, white eyes narrowing, "We've been over this."

"Yes but what are your hobbies? Have any kids? Play any sports?"

"Guns. Ogling women."

"There's an obvious explanation for that."

"I'm a dude?"

Vanessa pointed at him with her chip, "Well at first I thought you were a great candidate for Manic Bipolar but now that I'm seeing you eat," she counted off on her fingers, "recklessness, promiscuity, mentally instability and poor social skills," she raised her eyebrows as he shoved a giant handful of chips in his mouth, "spells of uncontrollable eating. I'd say major Borderline Personality Disorder. The obsession with artillery says due to some kind of posttraumatic stress..."

He blinked at her in surprise, "How does she know so much about us?"

"...Which apparently are all symptoms of Dissociative Identity Disorder," she finished wryly, "And to answer your question I was thinking about medical school for a while."

"Wanna play doctor?" he said throwing the journal aside. She ignored him.

"Don't get chip dust on Greg's journals, or I'll have to explain how a man in a body suit was reading them on his couch watching porn," she bit her lip as she thought of him, "And I can't imagine him taking that well."

"Aw these aren't yours?" he said scratching his head, "I had been imagining you in a lab coat. Science chicks are totally my thing."

She wrinkled her nose, "No, they're Greg's. He's an electro-physicist. He rewired the entire apartment by hand."

"Yeah but I have _guns_. I bet he can't say that."

Vanessa rolled her eyes, "Just watch. _Off_."

The apartment, wired to voice command, went dark immediately.

"Cool right? _On_."

But the apartment remained dark.

"It always works," she whispered. She grew uncomfortable being alone in a pitch-black room with a stranger, "Something must have happened to the circuit breaker. On. On. Come _on_!"

The room remained dark save for two glowing, eye-shaped points.

"I've seen better," the voice coming from them said.

Vanessa ignored him and got up, feeling her way to the kitchen, cursing softly as she banged her hip on the table. She put her hands out when she thought she was close to the breakfast bar, sidled around it and felt for a drawer. It rattled as she pulled it open.

"Aha!" her hands closed around the grill lighter. There was a click from behind her as she pushed the ignition tab, "AHH!"

Deadpool was standing right behind her, gun trained on her face, eyes narrow, "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Are you crazy!?" her shaking hands caused the flame to dance, "NO I'M NOT TRYING TO KILL YOU."

"Oh," he looked slightly crestfallen, lowering his gun a little.

"Put that thing away!" Vanessa made her way to the door, the little lighter flickering out.

"Damn," she said, shaking it, "I wish I had a flashlight."

There was a sudden flare of light, "SPEAK AND DEADPOOL, GOD OF LIGHT, SHALL ANSWER."

"Give me that!" she hissed, grabbing the tiny flashlight from him and hurrying into the hallway. The usually bright hallway had turned to something from a horror scene: the light from the flashlight bouncing as she walked, the sconces hung along the hall casting long, eerie shadows. At the end of the hall, she found the circuit box and yanked it open.

"Okay," she muttered, eyes roving over the labels, "Hallway."

She flicked the switch. Nothing happened.

"Holy shit!" said Deadpool, peering out the window at the end of the hall, "You killed Manhattan!"

Vanessa hurried to his side and looked out. New York had never been more dismal. Not a streetlamp, restaurant sign, nor traffic light was lit. Manhattan had turned into a world of shadow.

He yanked the flashlight back and held it aloft, "THE GOD OF LIGHT WILL SAVE NEW YORK!"

She hurried after him as he thundered back towards the apartment, light disappearing with him. Inside she dialed the police while he danced in front of the window, yielding his tiny flashlight.

"I've got no service," she said flatly, throwing her cell aside, "Cell towers must be out too."

With her lighter, she lit the candles on the coffee table. Then she sat down, ignoring the conversation Deadpool seemed to be having with himself, and waited.

She must have nodded off because when she awoke nearly two hours had passed. When the lights flickered on, she gasped a little, startled out of sleep. The mercenary was silent, curled up on the couch like an oversized toddler. She hurried to the window. Sure enough, Manhattan was slowly coming back to life. In the distance, the sound of several ambulances faded away.

Vanessa immediately dialed the Governor. He picked up after four excruciatingly long rings.

"Vanessa!" He sounded out of breath, but cheerful, "I was just going to call you."

"Ray," she said frantically, "Manhattan just had a massive black out."

"Really?" he said, his voice cracking slightly, "That's terrible."

"More like catastrophic! Isn't that why you were calling?"

There was a pause, "Listen, Vanessa, I'm going to have to take a few days off. Cancel everything for this week-"

"Mr. Thorton you can't just take off after something like this! The press is going to be frantic-"

He interrupted her with a threatening tone in his voice she had never heard before, "Do not tell me what I should and should not do," he gave a menacing pause, "Let me remind you of your place. You were nothing before I took you under my wing. Hold all my calls."

The line went dead.

As her phone slowly lowered from her ear, she swallowed hard, trying to rid her throat of the lump that had grown there. Ray had never been anything but kind to her.

But she wasn't going to dwell on that now; a true politician knew their responsibility to the people, she thought, taking a deep breath. Someone had to do something.

She dialed Greg twice, hoping to fill him in, but the line went straight to voicemail. Her stomach turned. Another thought crossed her mind that made her shake her head in disbelief. Perhaps she should alert this 'S.H.I.E.L.D.'

As if in response, there was a wracking snore from the couch behind her. If a gaggle of men dressed in spandex was going to save New York, it was going to have to wait until morning. With a sigh, she gathered up a throw blanket and tossed it over his body. The she headed to bed.

And despite the chaos ensuing in New York, she slept better than ever.


	8. Chapter 8

South of New York City, the lights of a large, yellow manor flickered out. The vast, red-brick drive was silent, along with the extensive gardens, perfuming the air with the last of summer's roses. But far past the mansions long, elegant entry hall, down a flight of stairs two men were stirring in the darkness of a stainless steel laboratory, completely oblivious to the power outage.

Dr. Gregory Killibrew stood over an operating table, hand occupied with the pulse of the lifeless man lying there.

"Dead," he whispered, taking a pen out of his clean white lab coat, "Another dead."

His companion, who had been leaning heavily on the table with balled fists, looked up, black eyes scrunching in anger.

"What do you mean he's dead?" he said gruffly, his usual swirl of graying-auburn hair hanging limp over his forehead.

Dr. Killibrew was bringing a white sheet from a cabinet below, "The human body is a conductor of electricity. Our test conductors are simply victims of physics."

"What does that mean?" Ray Thorton hissed, watching as his partner covered the body, "We covered it in rubber like you said."

"It means," Dr. Killibrew said, thin hands scribbling something into his notebook, "That we need a better insulator: something that protects the organs internally."

"Well make it."

"It's not that easy! I'd have to modify the cells from the root... I'm a physicist, not a surgeon."

Killibrew made his way across the room to a glowing computer screen, where he sat down and began typing frantically.

"But you could do it, if you had the resources?"

He looked ruffled by the question, "Well of course I could. But the consequences," he furrowed his brow, looking back to his computer screen, his sleek hair so black it was reflecting the artificial light, "It means extracting stem cells and synthesizing them to be protected."

"And then?"

"And then they are replanted for growth. But the source of power would have to be far more vast," he said indicated the machine they had been using to siphon the cities power into the body, "To make an impact on a modified body. We'd have to wait for a storm."

"More power means the subject is harder to control."

"Yes, Killibrew said softly, "If the experiment works, the subject's power will indeed be great."

"That simply won't do," Thorton said, massive forearms tensing uneasily beneath his rolled sleeves.

"If it is to work," he said, "according to my calculations, I see no other alternat-"

Thorton started towards him, "Dr. Killibrew, I have, as you asked me, passed every law you suggested in Senate. I have supported your every political step, through and through. All so you may change the country to favor your wealth. And now," he towered over the Senator, brow darkening menacingly, "I just ask you do this one little favor for me."

Killibrew removed his glasses to look up at him, trying not to look intimidated. But despite Greg's figure, tailored to leanness with many hours of hard work at his gym; he was slight compared to the massive bulk of the Governor, "Are you threatening me?"

A queer, almost manic smile crossed the Governor's lined face, "You're a smart man, Senator, I'm sure you can solve the puzzle this experiment has provided to us. "

Somewhere in the depths of the lab, there was an electric beat was pulsing. The Senator nodded, numbly, as Thorton went to find his blackberry.

"We have one very slight problem," Thorton held up his ringing phone. The name on the screen read Vanessa O'Conelly.

0000000000000000000000000000 0000000000000000000000000000 00000000000000

New York was in an uproar the day following.

The blackout had rendered the electrical factories unstable and several sections of the city would be without electricity for unknown lengths of time.

The Municipal Building was no exception. After the third time their floor was plunged into darkness, the Lieutenant Governor came out of his office, threw his hands in the air and told them they could all just go home. Vanessa didn't blame him; all morning she had been forwarding angry phone calls through to his office and he had led two press-conferences in the last hour.

The press was crazed. Rumors had reached them that the power outings were due to more terrorist attacks. With the governor nowhere to be found panic was at a maximum.

And as Vanessa exited the building, planning to hail a taxi back to her apartment, she realized that without the Governor around they would try to contact the closest person to him as their next target.

"Vanessa!"

The mob stationed outside the Municipal building was waiting to pounce.

"Vanessa has the governor abandoned New York?"

"Do you know anything about his whereabouts?"

"_Vanessa_!"

She was suddenly surrounded by a wall of newscasters, Styrofoam covered microphones were being thrust into her face.

"I-I-Um" she was trapped, there was no way out. Perhaps, if she had known, she would have prepared something to say.

"Tell us about your own experience with the terrorist attacks!"

So they had finally put a face to a name, she thought fleetingly.

BLAM-BLAM! BLAM!

The sound of a gun firing scattered the press. Screams rent the air as they ducked, many of them covering their heads with briefcases.

"COMING THROUGH!"

Deadpool was striding through towards Vanessa, who stood petrified in the midst of the press, gripping a file folder to her chest.

"Did someone order a Deadpool rescue service?" he shouted; mask stretching with his ear to ear grin. He grabbed her by her shoulder and pushed her through the crowd, "Move it, toots."

The group of newscasters was now rising as Deadpool ushered her out of their way. Cameras began to flash. Vanessa overheard a man next to her, who was brave enough to raise his head and face his camera crew:

"A masked man, a vigilante, has appeared in front of the Municipal building wearing-"

"AW SHUT UP," Deadpool pushed him over, "Vigilante. Sheesh. You'd think I was some sort of criminal, protecting this here fine lady."

He magnified his voice so that the crowd would hear.

"Sir, can I get an interview," a bell like voice behind them revealed pretty blonde woman, tall and thin and modelesque. She was holding a microphone out.

Deadpool turned and looked down at her, "Uh...Hi. Yeah. Yeah totally."

"Sir, just who are you? What do you plan to accomplish for the city of New York?"

"I'm Deadpool. One hundred and fifty percent single," he looked into the camera and flexed an enormous bicep, "Yeah, check it out, I'm totally a superhero."

A furious Vanessa grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, "COME ON."

A reluctant Deadpool hailed a cab on the corner, the press trailing along behind. He pushed Vanessa's head down, like a cop with a criminal, and shoved her into the cab.

The cabbie, rotund Middle Eastern man, glanced at her in the rearview mirror, "Addr-"

The second he caught sight of the masked man in his back seat he began screaming in a heavy accent, his arms flailing about the front of the car.

"Get out! Out! I do not drive criminals!"

Deadpool's eyes narrowed, "Oh I remember you! Listen we can do this the easy way 'i.e.' you shut your whore mouth and drive or-"

The man pointed at the door, "Last time you got in one of my cabs I was left with nothing but a steering wheel. GET OUT!"

Deadpool, faster than lightening, trained a loaded pistol on the man's hair, "Hard way it is! Address?"

Vanessa, who was cowering embarrassedly against the door said in a rather guilty tone, "State and 57th. Please."

The cabbie mutinously punched the counter to go.

"So," Deadpool said casually, polishing his pistol on his sleeve, "How was work?"

She glared at him, "Thorton is nowhere to be found," she sighed, "And apparently neither is the Senator."

"You really should stay away from that guy."

She gave him a sardonic look, "You've been sleeping on his couch."

He ignored her irritated glance, "He's bad news, toots. HEY!" he screamed at the cabbie, "You're taking the long route! On purpose!"

He shot the counter.

The driver let go of the steering wheel in shock and chaos ensued. The car careened into the opposite lane, bits of glass flew throughout the cabin. Vanessa shrieked, grabbing onto Deadpool's neck for dear life.

"GER'OFF ME!"

"WATCHOUT!"

The blasting horn of a rapidly approaching semi sounded. Realizing what was about to happen the cab driver grabbed the steering wheel once more and jerked the car back into the right lane. The cars around them beeped furiously.

Silence filled the cab as they all caught their breaths.

Without a word about the incident the cab driver looked straight ahead and dropped them off outside her apartment. When he put the car in neutral he turned and slowly gave them an unsettling smile, "That will be sixty-five dollars."

"Damn, that's a little steep-

"Shut. Up," Vanessa said under her breath. Her hands were shaking as she pealed bills off of her wad of dollars.

"I am SO sorry," she said to the cabbie as Deadpool stepped out of the car.

"HEY DON'T TIP HIM," he said from outside the window, "He's a terrible driver."

Vanessa had never exited a car so quickly.

By Friday there had been four more outages and the atmosphere at the office was so tense Vanessa was glad to sit at home in her pajamas after work. But the apartment felt strangely empty that night; with her joke of a body guard not having made an appearance. Their nightly bickering had begun to feel like a sort of tradition.

By eight she had run out of backed up television shows and the bottle of wine she had opened was posed empty on the counter. She was beginning to feel oddly restless. So she picked up the phone and dialed Pepper Potts for the second time, on a whim, hoping that it would be easier to reach her on a weekend evening. The phone picked up on the first ring.

Music exploded from the receiver. Vanessa wrenched the phone away from her ear, "OUCH!"

"HELLO?" shouted a voice over the music.

"Victoria? It's Vanessa. Vanessa O'Conelly. I don't know if you remember me. We met at the-"

"Vanessa!" Pepper's shouts turned gleeful, "Of course I remember you!"

"I was wondering if we could get together sometime, I've got a few questions for you. Is this a bad time? "

"No, no, not at all," she sounded distracted. Vanessa heard her yell at someone, and then a slurry of rustling before her voice rang back out across the phone.

"Listen," she yelled, "Why don't you come out tonight? We're at Titanium on Madison."

_Titanium?_ Of course the CEO of Stark Industries would be at the hippest, most talked about lounge in town.

She thought for a good hard second about leaving her apartment. Gregory didn't like clubs and bars; he thought they were dirty and distasteful affairs. He put up such a stink about it that she had altogether stopped going out with her girlfriends. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd even had _girlfriends_.

But, she thought with a hint of spite, Gregory isn't here. Gregory hasn't called. In fact, even with his call there is no good reason why she shouldn't have a good time.

"Vanessa?"

"I'll be there in thirty minutes," she said resolutely.

"Oh good! Give them my name at the door!"

_Click._

In five minutes flat Vanessa pulled up her hair into a sleek pony tail, dabbed on a layer of lip-gloss, and tugged on a spangled, sleeved mini-dress. Then, excitement in her throat, she grabbed her clutch, a pair of sling back heels and entered the night.


	9. Chapter 9

The line for Titanium, New York's new nightlife hot spot, wrapped half-way around the block. Vanessa sighed as she stepped out of the cab, hobbling on her high heels, and dialed Pepper once again.

"Hey I'm here," she said flatly, "But there's a huge line."

"Oh don't worry about it," Pepper said, "Give them my name at the door."

She frowned, peering up the line to the entrance where a bouncer was carefully monitoring the amount of guests entering and leaving the lounge. He raised a dark eyebrow at her as she approached.

"Excuse me? I'm with Pepper Potts."

"Welcome to Titanium," he said stepping aside and lifting the velvet rope for her to pass. There was a unanimous groan from the men waiting in line. Their girlfriends, shivering in their tiny dresses, looked on her with obvious envy. Vanessa flashed the bouncer a winning smile and entered.

She came out onto a balcony, stretched over a two floored lounge, and looked down through the dim lighting onto the main floor. Titanium was certainly chic. Beneath the high iron I-beams of the ceiling was a bar, lit with a low purple light, stretched framing a small dance floor. Under the stairs, which she tentatively descended as she looked for Pepper, stood neat little tables over which couples caroused, twinkling candles beneath them. A rather eccentric pop mix was blaring overhead.

Vanessa fought through the mob of dancing twenty-somethings to the bar. And there was Pepper, an oddity amongst the glitzy club-goers, sitting politely in her suit jacket with one leg crossed over the other. A glass of champagne rested on the bar next to her, which she sipped delicately as Vanessa approached.

Her eyes grew over her glass as she approached, "You made it! Ugh, you look fantastic," she said as she eyed Vanessa's dress.

"Just get off?" she chuckled in response.

Pepper rolled her eyes, "Hardly. Babysitting is a fulltime job."

Before Vanessa could ask, Anthony Stark was came striding off the dance floor draped in streamers and strings of colored beads.

"Exhibit A," said Pepper dryly.

"Vanessa, what a pleasant surprise," he said pulling glitter out of his ear and hopping over the bar, "What can I get you ladies?"

She gaped, "Do you work here?"

"This is my bar," he said casually, juggling champagne flutes.

"Show off," Pepper mumbled, a tiny hint of a smile dancing on her lips, "Tony wanted a place where all his friends could let loose in semi-privacy."

Vanessa took her martini with a smile of thanks to Tony who moved down the bar to help a group of women clustered at the other end of the bar.

"Privacy, eh? He missed the point just a b-"

"Well look who it is."

Vanessa turned to find Wade Wilson swaggering off the dance floor towards them.

"Wade?" her stomach twisted nervously, "What a small world."

His smile was wide, "Tiny. Pepper, it's been too long."

"Who let you in Wilson?" Pepper snapped, to Vanessa's surprise, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"Er- you two know each other?" she said cautiously.

Pepper looked confused, "Of course we do-"

Wade cut Pepper off so quickly she raised an eyebrow, "Aww come on Potts. Can't even muster up a hello for an old friend?"

"We're not friends," Pepper turned back to the bar as a red-headed woman walked up to join them, the very same Vanessa had seen with Pepper at the Lucifer House Gala. Vanessa gazed at her in envy, she was beautiful in a way she could never hope to be: curvaceous and sultry with soft red curls that hung over her eye and a daring backless blouse. A real life Jessica Rabbit.

"Charming little reunion," she said in a flat voice, distracting Vanessa from the tension between Wade and Pepper.

Another look of recognition passed over Wade's face, "Natasha lookin' good-"

"Crawl back to your cave, mutant, I'm not interested," Natasha said in a bored tone, sipping her vodka soda.

"Vanessa this is Natalia," Pepper said.

"Pleasure," she said before Vanessa could even lift a hand for her to shake.

_What in the world have I gotten myself into?_ She thought as she watched the animosity blossom between the two beautiful women and the sweet and cheerful man who had charmed her off her feet. Wade didn't seem to mind, in fact him seemed used to it.

"Well now you have to let me buy you a drink," he said, smile widening. Vanessa opened her mouth to find zero excuse. Just then, Tony appeared at Pepper's elbow.

"Come dance," it wasn't a question. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet.

"I-but-" Pepper looked frantic, "But Vanessa-"

Tony raised his eyebrows, "I'm sure she won't mind me stealing you for a moment, right Vanessa?"

In truth, Pepper was her excuse to decline Wade's drink, but bit her tongue, "Not at all. I can just-" she gestured to Wade. Pepper looked concerned but she was being dragged off to the dance floor.

Natasha wrinkled her nose, "I can't stand to watch how adorable they are," and wandered off into the crowd. Wade held his hands out and shrugged: she was alone at a bar and out of excuses.

"Alright, fine," she chuckled, "One drink."

"You won't regret it," He sat down at the bar next to her as the bartender sidled up, "The usual and whatever the lady wants."

The bartender looked at her expectantly and she handed him her glass to refill.

Vanessa raised a brow, impressed, "The usual? How'd a mere political science major get to be a regular at the hottest spot in New York?" she said teasingly.

"I'm a big fan of Stark," he said with a shrug, "He puts up with me."

She was about to ask what he meant when the bartender handed her a drink. He set a tumbler of black liquor in front of Wade.

"What is that?!" she said wrinkling her nose, "That looks like rocket fuel."

"Jaeger and cherry," he said holding up the glass, "Cheers, toots."

Vanessa felt the tingle of familiarity from the phrase on the back of her neck. She stared at him curiously, as he clinked their glasses together.

He seemed to notice he was under scrutiny and pushed up his glasses nervously, "What?"

She shook her head, "You just remind me of a friend of mine."

"Is that a good thing?"

Vanessa bit her lip, "You know I haven't quite figured that out yet. After all, if Pepper Potts doesn't like you…" she dwindled off.

He waved a hand at her as he sipped his drink, "Don't worry about her. Tony's got her panties in a bunch. How's the senator?"

She was caught off guard at the subject change, "I thought my relationship status didn't matter to you?"

He grinned at her over his glass, "I've got to keep up with my competition."

She raised an eyebrow.

"What's he got that I don't? I mean sure he's got class, fancy black limousines, an apartment on the Upper East Side that's practically a work of modern architecture-"

"Are you stalking me?" she said with a laugh.

He looked excited, "Was I right?"

She didn't respond.

"I'm kidding! You didn't answer my question, though," he leaned back against the bar stool and crossed one leg over the other.

Vanessa's feelings about the subject were distracted by the outline of his muscled form in his thin black thermal, "I don't know how he is, I haven't talked to him in about a week."

"Busy guy?"

She gave an uncomfortable chuckle, "You could say that," she frowned, "It's strange really, he was so gung ho over the Lucifer House project it seems strange that he's completely abandoning it to go on campaign."

She stopped to think, placing her hand over her mouth.

"We don't have to talk about this," Wade said carefully.

"No it's alright," she said offering him a small smile. She attempted at a joke to make up for the awkward silence, "Perhaps the Governor is holding an invite only politician getaway where they don't contact their loved ones."

He laughed lightly but a dark look passed over his face. She fiddled with her glass.

"Sorry, I guess that wasn't very funny."

"No, no," he chuckled, "I just think I left my curling iron on at home…"

She burst out laughing.

Out on the dance floor Pepper had escaped from Tony and reconvened with Natasha. They watched the pair from a distance. Pepper shook her head.

"Do you think she knows?" she said softly, concern showing through her tight, corporate façade.

Natasha snorted, "God, no. Look-"

The women watched Vanessa giggle and tuck her hair behind her ear. Natasha turned to Pepper with a look on her face.

"I see your point," Pepper sighed, "This can't end well. It's too bad; she's such a sweet girl."

"Sweet, but stupid."

Pepper pursed her lips, "Not stupid enough, unfortunately. She's digging about S.H.E.I.L.D, left three messages with J.A.R.V.I.S. this week."

"Tony uses that AI to avoid social interaction."

"And his boss," Pepper said with a laugh. Suddenly the roar of the rain on the metal roof of the club drowned out the music. At the bar, Wade checked his phone.

"Listen, I've got to run."

"Hot date?" She said weakly.

"No-erm-" he looked frantic, throwing money down on the counter, "I've got to go. I'm sorry."

He practically ran for the door. Vanessa was dumbfounded. She had really been enjoying herself.

"That's what I get for talking about my boyfriend."

She tossed back her martini.

Several glasses and a cab ride later, Vanessa stumbled into the apartment, slightly lightheaded and soaked with rainwater. She kicked off her heels and sighed against the door, watching the flashes of bright lightening as they lit the apartment, casting ghostly shadows amongst the modern furniture. Great claps of thunder shook the building.

Her run into the building had sobered her slightly, as did the thunder, and the longer she rested up against the coolness of the front door a feeling of dread grew greater within her. It was a silly fear, really, just the result of being alone in the dark and letting her mind wander. Not wanting to let the feeling get the best of her, she resolutely crossed to the opposite wall and felt around in the dark for the light switch.

At that moment, her fingers met the plastic of the switch there was a horrible crash from the bedroom. Vanessa froze.

Heart in her throat, she melted into the shadows of the living area and snuck along the wall. As quietly as she could muster, she pulled one of Gregory's top-of-the-line cutting knives from the knife block and moved towards the bedroom. Another bright flash of lightening lit the room, and she stifled a scream in her hand. There was a painful moan from the bedroom. She burst into the room and jammed on the light, knife brandished to defend herself. Then she screamed.

The glass from the pane was everywhere, it's assailant, Deadpool, was lying face-up in between the wall and the bed surrounded by a pool of his own blood.

"You wanna give me a hand toots?" he said weakly, his arms covered the extent of the damage to his abdomen.

There was blood splatter clear across the room. Vanessa clutched the wall to avoid fainting.

"Why did you come HERE?" she said shakily.

He groaned faintly, "You said you studied to be a nurse."

Her voice went from panicked to positively shrill in a matter of seconds. "Did I mention I quit because I was too squeamish!?"

There was no response.

Despite the tossing of her stomach, the sight of someone usually so loud and unstoppable being so weak spiked her adrenaline. As she knelt, he shifted his arms to reveal a raw mass of surging organs knotted with fabric from his suit and bits of glass from the shattered window. The skin around the wound was charred black. She gagged.

"Don't be a pu-"

"Shut up," she said sternly, trying to settle her stomach, "We're going to have to get you out of this mess or else you're going to heal around it."

She grabbed the knife she had dropped and slipped it carefully underneath the stretchy fabric of his suit and cut towards his collarbone. Already she could see the latticework of scars revealed across pale skin.

"Under any other circumstances this would be incredibly kinky…"

She shushed him, pulling the fabric over his shoulders, beginning on his legs with shaking hands, and tried not to gasp. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of thick scars. They banded across his legs like a tabby cat, spiderwebbed across his chest and continued where thick abdominal muscles had once been.

"So I'm not the prettiest dude," he choked, as he caught her biting her lip, "But I sure can kick some a-"

He gagged. Vanessa grabbed the nearest wastebasket and shoved it under him just in time for him to lift his mask and vomit heavily into it. Blood flowed freely from his stomach.

"Here," she said, gently reaching to help him tug it over his head. But he caught her wrist in a vice like grip.

"Don't," he said softly, "Please."

She nodded, letting him collapse back down onto the floor. Already the wound had started to knit together. She swore and held her breath, pushing his intestines back in what she thought was a suitable pattern, picking out pieces of glass as she went. White spots flashed in the corners of her eyes.

"I am so not cut out to be a nurse," she said steadying her head with bloodied hands. It was done. Deadpool was silent as he fell unconscious.

"NO!" she slapped him several times, "Stay with me!"

"I usually like to cuddle after someone has been inside me," he moaned.

Vanessa was on the verge of tears, "Just help me lift you onto bed okay?"

They struggled shortly to find a way that he could support his own weight.

"Jeeze you are hot," she said as he tumbled into bed. There was no humorous retort; he had finally passed out from trauma. She felt the scarred skin. Burning.

_He can't die,_ she made herself think, _he can't die. He can't._

But he looked so irrevocably human lying there limp in the bed that she changed her prayer.

_Don't die, don't die, don't die, please, please, please don't die._


	10. Chapter 10

It was the sound of Deadpool singing, very loudly, in her shower that woke Vanessa the next morning.

She lay in her place on the couch for a long while, trying to will her groggy mind to focus but she was simply too exhausted. After he had fallen asleep she had scrubbed the blood and pus out of the hardwood until she too bled, checking periodically to make sure his fever came down.

And came down it did. As promised, he healed from skin to body temperature, leaving nothing but a raw red scar behind. Nevertheless, she had spent most of the night nodding off in a nearby chair, watching painfully as he slowly healed.

She didn't know why she had been so worried. Perhaps she was afraid of someone dying on her watch. Maybe it was because he saved her life and she knew she owed him. Or maybe it was simply time to admit that she enjoyed the company, hassle as he might be. It really didn't matter.

She rose from the couch and snuck into the bedroom to get a change of clothes. The bathroom door was cracked slightly; steam and the sound of the shower running came from within. There was humming and then:

"I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE!"

Vanessa snorted into the drawer she was rummaging in.

"YOU OTHER BROTHER'S CAN'T DENY!"

As she walked past the bathroom, she caught sight of the pile of clothes she had left out for him on the counter. She edged up to the bathroom door.

On top of them was his mask.

"THAT WHEN A GIRL WALKS IN WITH AN ITTY BITTY WAIST!"

Now that she saw it, she grew intensely curious. Why had he insisted on keeping it on? She pursed her lips. He could want to stay anonymous, she supposed. She knew from life with Senator Killibrew how hard it was to keep a quiet life when you were constantly in the spotlight. Then again, he was vocal in front of the news crew last week. It was more likely he was someone she knew.

"AND A ROUND THING IN YOUR FACE,"

The curiosity was too much. She could take it and hide it. He would have no choice to come out without a mask. Then again, Deadpool's personality rendered him more unstable than explosives in summer. Who knows, he could come out and shoot her in the head.

It was worth the risk, she decided, reaching slowly, quietly into the bathroom. Her fingers were mere inches away from the mask.

"YOU GET-"

Vanessa froze in the long pause, praying to herself.

"SPRUNG!"

She doubled over, stuffing her hand in her mouth to keep from laughing. It was too risky. Instead, she hurried into the other room and changed.

She wasn't usually up this early, but she figured what time she usually wasted sleeping could be used to fix breakfast. By the time her bodyguard had shut off the shower water, what was meant to be a bowl of cereal had turned into a full-scale event.

Deadpool walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel and his mask.

"Mmm I smell bacon!"

Vanessa set a plate of eggs near him, "Here, have some breakfast. You need protein after last night."

"Great," he said grabbing a piece of bacon, "Gotta go."

"Wha-" she followed him as he moved towards the door, "You were mortally wounded! Where are you going!?"

"Got things to do, sugar, people to brutally murder."

"But I set the table!"

He shut the door for a brief moment then opened it again, crossed to the counter, and grabbed the entire plate of bacon, "See ya!"

"Hey!" she said indignantly as the door shut in her face, "THAT'S MY TOWEL!"

"Great," she said, dumping the plate into the garbage can. Then she picked up the phone and dialed the building manager to come fix the window.

By Sunday, when the repairman showed up with a fresh pane of glass, Vanessa had not seen nor heard from the masked mercenary. In fact, it wasn't until the window was fixed that she had seen anyone at all. Needless to say, she was surprised that Senator Killibrew walked in just as the maintenance was leaving.

"Greg!" She said jumping up to greet him.

His hair was unkept, hanging over an eye rimmed with dark circles, "Can't you give me a minute to set down my things, Vanessa?"

Her arm, held out to embrace him, fell, "You've been gone for a week."

He sighed, dropping his bags, "Kansas is a busy place."

"I thought you were going to Ohio?"

There was a pause.

"I meant Kansas."

Vanessa raised an eyebrow, following him into the bedroom, "They don't have phones in Kansas?"

"You know," Gregory looked up from the bag he was unpacking; "This campaign is hard enough without you breathing down my neck."

Vanessa blinked at him, surprised. A reproachful look crossed her face. He seemed to regret snapping at her.

"I'm sorry," he sighed again, dropping onto the bed and putting his head in his hands, "The stress of this campaign is getting to me."

"It's alright," she said, more gently, "I just missed you."

He smiled, taking one of her hands into his palm and holding it to his lips, "I missed you too. If I take you to a magnificent dinner tonight, will that make up for it?"

She shrugged, grinning, "It might."

"Good," he said taking out a huge stack of papers and crossing to his desk, "Get ready."

Vanessa had just finished blowing her hair dry when Gregory called her into the living room to help him with his tie.

"Does this match?" he said leaning upwards so she could fiddle with his collar.

"Yes-OH!" Suspended just outside the window directly behind Gregory's head was Deadpool, hanging upside down, waving frantically.

"Oh? That good, huh?" Greg said, turning to see what she was looking at. Thinking quickly, Vanessa rammed her elbow against the table behind her.

"Oh…ow!" she shouted, "I did it again," she rubbed her funny bone, "Ouch."

Greg grabbed her elbow and looked at it, "Are you okay?"

She peered behind his head. Deadpool was gone.

"Oh yes," she said with a sweet smile, "I'll be fine. The tie looks great."

"Great," he looked pleased.

She headed back into the bedroom, shouting over her shoulder, "I'll just be a moment!"

There was a voice behind her as soon as she shut the bedroom door.

"Heya-"

"What are you doing here?!" Vanessa hissed under her breath, "If Gregory sees you, I'm screwed!"

"Chill, woman. I just came to give you this," he held out a mish-mosh of limp and broken weeds.

She stared at them, "What is it?"

"Flowers, duh," he said shrugging, "You know cuz you…uh…made sure I didn't herniate any guts or anything."

Vanessa tried not to laugh, "Well thank you," she put the ragged floral arrangement on the desk, "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Great, no problemo. I mean, I have quite a few problemos, that's Spanish by the way, I'm a pretty talented linguist-,"he choked on his words as she crossed to the bathroom, "Wowza. You look…," he scratched the back of his head, "Er- going somewhere?"

"Gregory is taking me to Elven Madison Park," she said back, whispering slightly, leaning over the counter to dab on her makeup.

"Fancy?" he said following her.

"You've never heard of it?" she said, "Were you raised in a box?"

"Canada," he said holding up a corrective finger.

"Two-hundred dollar plates of food-," she paused, "Wait, you're from Canada?"

"That guy is bad news bears, toots," he said gesturing into the living room with his thumb. She rolled her eyes.

"Have you ever been inside Lucifer House?" he said coming up behind her.

She looked at him in the mirror, "No."

"People have been hearing screaming from the grounds."

She chuckled, "Is that what they say? It's probably the homeless people screaming with joy that they have food and a roof over their heads."

He shook his head, "I really don't think you should-"

Vanessa sighed dramatically, "Are you still on about this?"

"Let me take you out instead. Me, you, Taco Bell and that dress," he said eyebrow rising through his mask, "What do you have to lose?"

"My dignity," she said smiling as she turned.

She regretted the move immediately. He caged her between his arms and the counter, "Don't trust him."

"Let me go!"

"He's bad news."

"Don't make me break your nose again," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, conscious of being so close to another man in so little clothing.

There was a knock at the door. They jumped apart like a pair of seventh graders.

"Vanessa?" Gregory's voice was muffled through the wood, "You okay in there? We should go."

Vanessa broke out in a cold sweat. If Gregory found her hiding in the bathroom with a man in a spandex body suit, she would have a lot of explaining to do. She looked up at the tiny window. There was no way a man of the mercenary's stature and build was squeezing through such a small square.

"Coming!" her voice cracked. Deadpool pressed himself against the wall behind the door and she squeezed out of the bathroom in half a foot's space, closing the door behind her.

"Everything okay?" Greg said, "You were talking to yourself."

She nodded and plastered on a fake smile, "Fine, fine. You ready? Let's go," she grabbed his hand and pulled.

"I'm just going to use the bathroom…"

"No!" she practically shouted, "I mean, we're _so_ late."

He chuckled, "It won't take long I promise-"

She slammed her body in front of the door, "Don't go in there."

The senator looked a bit disturbed.

"I just…" she said the first thing that came to mind, "Pooped."

Greg looked at her incredulously and burst out laughing, "I think I can handle it."

He put his hand to the door and pushed.

"Don't!"

But the bathroom was empty. Vanessa's heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her feet.

"It's not even bad!" Gregory said with a wink as he shut the door.

She put a shaking hand to her head as she turned to put her coat on and ran into six feet of spandex.

"You pooped?" Deadpool asked with a laugh, "Niiiice."

She smacked him in the arm and whispered, "I don't even want to know how you got out of there."

He backed up towards the window, "Magic. Later toots!" And with a tip of his imaginary hat he jumped out the window.

Hours later, Vanessa sat alone at the dinner table with her arms crossed over her lavender smoked duck. Gregory had left the table nearly hour ago to take a call, glass of cognac in hand. After eating a few dishes alone, she had lost her appetite. He had been gone a week, _a whole week_, and he couldn't bother to enjoy the meal with her.

Her waiter appeared and offered her a sympathetic smile, "Can I get you anything else?"

"Just the check," Vanessa sighed, folding her napkin and tossing it onto the table.

A thousand voices were rattling off reasons why she shouldn't be angry in her head. He was a Senator. She should be more patient. She should be grateful for all he's done for her.

In reality, she had run out of excuses for putting up with him. It was her own fault; she fell for this glamorous life, for the Dior dresses and sixteen course meals. He walked all over her and she allowed it, dealing with his excruciating temper for too long. It was time to put her foot down.

She stood up and walked out of the restaurant.

He was standing there, on the curb next to valet.

"It's just a reaction to the injections, take what I gave you and I'll come back in the morning."

"HELLO?" Vanessa screamed at him.

He did a double take and put his hand to the receiver, "Vanessa?"

"I've been waiting for a WHOLE hour!" she yelled with no regard for the person on the phone, nor for the small crowd that was gathering on the sidewalk, "AN HOUR AND A WEEK!"

She didn't wait for his response. Instead, she stepped off the curb and hailed a cab. With one last glare at in the direction of the dumbfounded Senator, she headed for home.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Vanessa was sitting on the couch, still dressed to the nines, when Gregory arrived back at the apartment. He stumbled through the front door with his tie hanging off, a half-drank bottle of sherry dangling from one hand. When he saw her, a look she had never seen before crossed his face.

"You," his tone was soft, unnervingly soft. He pointed at her, "You _bitch_."

Her jaw dropped, "What did you call-?"

"You embarrassed me in front of the entire city," His eyes bugged out of his head as he stepped towards her.

She stood, "I'm glad I did! Maybe you'll learn to treat people the way they deserve."

He ignored her words with such ease. In fact, he seemed not to have heard her. Instead, the shadows on his face grew deeper, "From now on, we will play by my rules."

Vanessa backed towards the window. He was scaring her now, the look on his face displaced from his wide, politician's smiles. His eyes bulged wider, his pupils dilating.

"From now on, you will do exactly as I say, when I say to do it," he advanced until they were toe to toe, "You will speak when I say, you will appear at my side in public when I say. And, when I tell you to stay out of my business, you will do just that. Or else deal with the consequences."

"You can't _make_ me do anything-"

Suddenly she was on the ground. It was as if her face had burst to flame, a rush of white-hot pain pounding through her head. She had barley sense to comprehend that he had hit her when the window behind the Senator exploded.

Vanessa covered her head as shards of glass rained down on her, blinded to the blur of red and black that rained down with it. By the time she sat up Deadpool had suspended Gregory by the neck.

She had never realized how large he was until that moment, holding up Gregory, whose fingers scrambled at the mercenary's massive hand like a helpless little toy. She yelped as he threw the Senator to the ground.

Greg gasped as the air left his body, but he rolled, attempting to crawl to safety.

"Oh no you don't," Deadpool's hands found the smaller man's throat once more, knocked the wind out of him for a second time and pinned him beneath his massive body. The Senator scrabbled to free himself. There was a horrific crunch as Deadpool's fist met the flesh of his face.

"SIT STILL."

For a moment they stared at each other in hatred, only the sound of Gregory's ragged breathing was audible.

Deadpool started, "Now…"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" Gregory's eyes protruded from his scalp, saliva and blood spraying onto the mercenary's mask. His chest was heaving.

"I'm Deadpool, scumbag, maybe you've heard of me," he growled into the Senator's face, "And in case you haven't…" he cocked his gun and pressed it against Gregory's cheek bone, "Here's a little something to remember me by on those cold, lonely winter nights."

Vanessa's voice wavered slightly, "Don't-"

At the sound of her voice, Gregory's eyes strained to find her, "Vanessa, get out of here!"

Deadpool wrenched the Senator's bloodied face back towards his, "The next time you touch her," the gun was so hard against his skin a bruise was blooming black and blue beneath it, "I will blow your brains through the back of your head and skullfuck your cold, lifeless eyes, understand?

In his panic, the Senator remained silent.

"I said," the mercenary's voice bellowed through the apartment, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME YOU SCRAWNY, LITTLE FUCK?

Greg nodded, coughing through the blood streaming down his throat.

"Vanessa," Deadpool nodded towards the bedroom, "Go."

She scrambled for the bedroom and shut the door, plugging her ears against the sound of Gregory screaming in pain as he was forced out of his apartment.

For upwards of an hour she sat crouched in the closet, arms around her knees, pain radiating from her cheek. When the tears started, she couldn't stop them so she let them flow freely down her face, hot and angry.

When she heard the front door open, she wanted to hide but found she was paralyzed, so tired from pain and fear she couldn't will herself to move.

The closet creaked open.

"Heya, toots," the mercenary said softly, "Er-," he saw her makeup stained face, "I..um…shucks. This isn't in my job description. I don't do tears very-"

She shook her head. It didn't matter.

He crouched in front of her.

"Damn, let me see that," he put his fingers under her chin to examine her cheek, "You'd better get some ice or else you're gonna have a huge fuggin' shiner."

She nodded and he rose, leaving her alone for a moment, only to return with a white bag.

"Peas," he said, sitting cross-legged in front of her. She noticed he had stripped himself of his weaponry, perhaps in good decency for her delicate state, "Always the best for bruises. Trust me; I'm in no way a doctor."

In a surprisingly gentle gesture, he pressed the bag against her cheek and held it there.

They were silent for a long time.

Finally, he spoke again, shifting uncomfortably in the quiet.

"Republicans, eh?"

The noise Vanessa made was the result of laughing and crying at once. She placed her hand under his, taking the bag from him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Hey," he said putting his hands in the air like a caught criminal, "They're you're peas!"

She shook her head, "For the other thing."

"Oh, right," the light from his eyes lessened as they narrowed, "And you said you didn't need a body guard."

The silence that followed was apparently enough for him to understand not to push the subject.

"I guess I'd better pack some things," she said looking up into the closet.

Deadpool shook his head, "He said not to bother. The apartment's yours."

This fact brought on more tears.

"Hey what did I say about the crying!"

She sniffled, "S-sorry."

"Listen," he said standing, "I know just what you need."

"What's that?"

"Pizza," he said resolutely.

"You know," she said, letting him pull her to her feet, "I think you might be right."

He looked like he might kiss her.


	11. Chapter 11

They had bought eighty dollars' worth of New York's finest pizza and three pay-per-view movies that night, all conveniently charged to the credit card account of Dr. Gregory Killibrew. He was right; pizza did the trick, because Vanessa had fallen into a carb-induced coma well before the end of the third movie. The alarm in the bedroom was blaring when she rolled off the couch the following morning. It took a full forty-five minutes of strategic make up to cover the dark bruise under her eye and even then, it was still visible. She had no choice but to brush her bangs over her face and brush her teeth in a hurry, thinking up an excuse in case anyone saw her black eye.

There were thirty-two messages in her voicemail-box due to the Governor's numerous missed conference calls and appointments. She shook her head as she pressed the button to release them.

"Vanessa, Jerry," a man's voice blared out of the phone box, "Just letting you know I got your message. We're good to reschedule for next Friday."

Delete.

"This is your Staples representative reminding you that our sale on office paper ends this-!"

"Yeah, yeah," Vanessa whispered to herself, jabbing the delete button.

"Vanessa."

The second she heard Gregory's rasping voice echo through the office she wrenched the phone off the receiver to silence the speaker.

"Vanessa please call me," he sounded terrible coming through the phone receiver, his voice low and full of grief, "Please. I need to talk to you."

Delete.

"Vanessa its Greg. Again."

Delete. Delete. Delete.

She was shaking when she pulled her cellphone out of her purse, realizing she hadn't even glanced at it since she spoke with Pepper Friday evening. Thirty-seven missed calls.

The phone rang.

Her hand hovered over the phone for three rings before she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Don't hang up," sure enough, the Senator's voice came through eagerly. He sounded better now, more like the Greg she remembered.

"I don't have time for this, I'm at work."

"Vanessa, please, just hear me out."

She was quiet. He took it as an invitation to speak, "Listen, the grand opening of the Lucifer House is tomorrow."

"So?"

"It's a televised event. I was hoping that I might, well," he sounded uncomfortable, "that I might bring you as my date."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was," he said gruffly, "I haven't gotten a chance to handle the press and, well, I'm an unmarried _Republican_ Senator, Vanessa. I know," he went on, "I don't deserve it but I'm asking just this one favor, so that I might make this transition a little easier. For the both of us.

Vanessa bit her lip. It was hard to imagine Greg as the person he was the night prior. Part of her wanted to tell him how badly she missed him, and that their bed was lonely without him. But the other part was scarred from fury, beyond repair.

"If we don't do this," he said, seemingly sensing her debacle, "You'll never get a break from the news stations."

He had a point. Vanessa had a choice: she could either deal with New York's invasive News Paper's or she could bite the bullet and stand next to the Senator in a perfectly public setting.

"Alright," she said, letting out the air from her chest, "I'll go."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was a brilliantly sunny Tuesday afternoon, perfect for a stroll around the Versailles inspired gardens of the Lucifer house. The roses were in full bloom, brilliant against the butter-yellow of the Manor, and the clouds behind the hill on which it stood seemed to be naught but decorative cotton. For the public opening of the house, they had stretched a navy ribbon across the door, to be cut by the Governor. But the Governor was still missing, and so it was Mayor Bloomberg that appeared on the scene to cut the ribbon with Senator Killibrew.

Vanessa had donned a white sundress complete with little white gloves and a winning smile. A fake smile, of course. There was nothing she hated more than standing out in the heat wearing a thousand dollars' worth of white linen to be with a man who had left a bruise the size of an egg on her face. Shiner indeed.

But Gregory had offered to pay for an air-brush touch up of her make-up, and she took it without thought. The last thing she wanted, ever, was to be the center of New York's attention. And yet she signed up to date a Senator.

_I'm such a hypocrite. _

As they gathered near the front of the house, she and Gregory climbing the platform there, she pondered what Deadpool possibly could have meant the night prior. The Lucifer House was as calm and bright as had been promised; the only sound coming from the grounds was the occasional buzzing of a bee. Gregory began his speech. She relaxed, fanning herself slightly as the bright sun beat down on her hair. Soon this would be over, and she could be free of the Senator. Her mind had wandered so far from the ribbon cutting that she almost didn't comprehend what was happening when the Senator bent on one knee in front of her and pulled a diamond out of his pocket.

Gregory's lips moved but all Vanessa heard was a whining ring in her ears as she realized she had been deceived. He had trapped her in public, knowing full well she could not refuse in front of the press without repercussions she was not willing to risk. His eyes locked on hers, a sick look of triumph painted across his face. _Now you are mine_, it said.

She nodded helplessly, acknowledging this defeat. Behind them there was cheering from the crowd. In the heat of the sun, a trickle of sweat dripped down Gregory's face. Beneath the façade of well-placed make up his skin was grotesque, black and blue from the abuse that couldn't save her from this mess. The ribbon was cut, the ends fluttering in the now stifling field. If she acted fast, she could hang herself from one of the navy ends. Greg moved to embrace her.

His voice was low and hot in her ear, "Tell your friend if I ever see him again, he's going to pay."

Far away, the sky was changing from cerulean to chalky grey. A storm was coming in.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o 00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

That night the sky was rolling with the beginnings of a storm, thunder rumbling in the oncoming clouds. Dr. Killibrew hunched over the pallid glow of his computer, in the dark basement of the Lucifer house, scrolling through page after page of US Government social security files.

"The electrical fence _destroyed_, my face _ruined_," he said with each slam on the keyboard, "Right before a televised event."

At the table behind him, Governor Thorton inserted a vile of milky-white liquid into a surgical needle. His hand shook slightly, weak from the weeks of injections. They had come to the final, but Thorton's body had not taken well to the drugs. His hair was dirty and limp, large bags had formed under his grey eyes, "And now you have his name. Sacrifices must be made on our climb to glory."

"What use is it? There's nothing on him in the government databases," Killibrew scowled at the computer, banging his first on the desk, "No immigration record, gun permits, _nothing_."

"Patience," Ray growled, "Revenge will come soon enough."

"I want him dead," Killibrew said standing, facing the small window that looked up and out into the storm.

"I assure you," the Governor said calmly, "Once the transformation is complete, he will be the first to punish."

Gregory nodded curtly, turning from the window and crossing to the other man, gesturing for his arm. The Governor obliged, stoic-faced as he was stuck with the needle. There was a crash of thunder from above.

"This had better work."

Killibrew paled, but nodded, "It must. There is no alternative. Now if we just let the injection run its course before we-"

"There's no time," Thornton stood, towering over the Senator.

Killibrew grew frantic, "According to my calculations the possible repercussions of the procedure without the drugs could produce extreme pain for the subject!"

"This great of power is not for the weak," Thornton stood.

"Are you sure you want to do this, we could find another for the trial there are plenty captive upstairs?"

Thornton crossed to the great door on the wall of the laboratory and wrenched it open, turning back to Killibrew a final time, "Prepare the house."

A great clap of thunder echoed overhead. The rain began, hammering down upon the grand yellow house, slapping up against the windows. Within the chamber, Thorton had opened the great slabs of rubber that lined the walls and door silenced it. In the center was an enclosed metal chair; above it was a great mass of rubber wires, each ended with a plug of surgical needles.

Killibrew donned his lab glasses and hurried after the large man who had stripped down to his underwear. With the click of a catch, he swung the doors surrounding the chair open. There was a hiss as the metal harness rose.

Thorton clambered wordlessly into the seat, strapping himself in, and pulling the harness down around his head and shoulders.

"Heart rate," Killibrew felt the thick wrist of the Governor, "Stable."

"Blood pressure…Stable."

"Cell status," with a quick prick of the finger, he gathered a drop of blood from the Governor's finger, "Stable. Subject stable."

He swung the doors inwards and turned the dial. There was a sucking sound as the doors sealed themselves shut. Now the only part of Ray visible was his face.

Killibrew moved to the great control panel that stood in front of the pod. He flicked the main power key, turning all dials to the on position. The room darkened, save for the pulsing of the multi-colored control buttons, "Initiating fusion."

The wire panels began their slow decent to the pod on two mechanical arms. Thorton flexed his fists as the needles found their way inside the chamber, inserting them evenly over his skin.

"Raising electro-rod."

He reached for a bar lever and pushed it forward slowly. Far above, on the roof of the house, a pair of doors opened and a great metal lightning rod ascended into the air.

"Beginning fusion sequence."

Killibrew's hand hovered over the largest button, pulsating and green in the shadowy room. For a brief moment, the two men locked eyes. Ray nodded, eyes flashing with adrenaline.

He pressed the button.

Greg's body hair raised almost immediately as electric charge filled the room. Above the pod, the machine whirred to action as the lightening rod sensed the electrical activity.

Suddenly it was struck. Greg watched anxiously as electric discharge appeared on the wires above, buzzing as they flashed into patterns of blue and white. The spats of discharge grew wide, wider than Greg had ever seen them, soon filling the chamber with its own lightning storm. He ducked, slightly horrified, as an arm of electricity zapped overhead.

Inside the pod, Ray's body began to shake. There was a horrible noise, the chatter of teeth and the crackling of hair and clothing: the sound of a person being electrocuted.

The governor began to scream. He was indecipherable now, the pod filled with a brilliant, white centered light.

"No!" Killibrew reached for the emergency stop button and slammed his hand upon it. But it was too late, the sequence was too far in. Through the ear splitting sound of static, the alarm system began to blare. The discharge was too much; Killbrew dived for the door to save himself as the room filled with blinding flashes, ducking as he wrenched it open. With the full force of his body, he slammed the metal door shut, slamming down the latch. He collapsed against the far wall, hidden by metal lab tables. The roar of the machine from inside the room overcame the horrible sound of the Governor screaming as it surged on.

There was a sound like a thousand lasers firing at once, so loud that Gregory ducked beneath a table, the lights from the computer and the ceiling flickering above. Then all was quiet.

"W-What have I done," Greg whispered into the darkness, his body shaking, "_What have I done_."

Gregory slumped against the table, dry sobs wracking his body as the realization of his partner's death passed over him.

_Boom._

The Senator sat up as the table he was leaning against trembled with the force of something moving within the room.

_Boom. _

It was coming from inside the fusion chamber. In the sudden silence, Greg raised his head over the table, trembling.

_BOOM._

Suddenly the huge door dented from the inside out, the metal latch whining as it strained against the force. He ducked slightly.

"What the-"

The door crashed open. Gregory flew backwards, shielding his eyes against the brilliant light coming from the doorway, his hair cracking with static as his hand brushed against it. As the realization of what he was seeing passed over him, his eyes widened, mouth changing from shock to a grotesque look of terror. He cowered against the wall.

"_Oh my god_."


	12. Chapter 12

Back in Manhattan, Vanessa was unlocking her apartment door. She slid inside and threw her keys down, mumbling angrily to herself.

She made her way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine, stopping as something in the living room caught her eye. She turned slowly.

Deadpool was sitting in the armchair holding his fingertips together with a flat look on his face.

"Well, well, well. Look who finally made it home."

Vanessa laughed, "Maybe I should just have a key made up for you."

He ignored her and gestured to the sofa, "Perhaps you should sit and explain to Daddy what happened today."

She sighed, and sank into the chair, "I did the thing."

"And what thing is that?"

"The thing you told me not to do. I didn't stay away from Gregory," Vanessa put her head in her hands.

"WILL YOU EVER LEARN?" he exploded, throwing his hands in the air, "Sheesh, woman, it's like you want to be beat," he paused, "Not that that's _always_ a bad thing…"

She opened her mouth to change the subject.

"DON'T EVEN!" his eyes narrowed, "running off and getting engaged without my blessing. AFTER ALL WE'VE SHARED. And to that little shit-for-brains…"

He crossed his arms with some difficulty, turning away from her.

"I'm not marrying him," she said, laughing dryly, "I'm not that stupid."

He peered at her from the corner of his eye.

She wrenched the ring off her finger and showed it to him before throwing it across the room. It made contact with a sharp -_ping_- and was gone.

"Ta da," she said in an ironic tone.

His pout dropped, replaced with his usual eyebrow raise, "Thought I was going to have to slap some sense into you."

Vanessa was sure he wasn't joking. Suddenly there was a rumble of thunder far into the distance.

"Excellent!" he hissed under his breath, hands balling into fists excitedly, "Storms coming in. TO THE ROOF!"

She gave him a quizzical look as he hurried off to the bedroom.

"HURRY UP!" he said peeking back in, "We're going to miss the best lightning."

"Oh I'm invited?" she grabbed her bottle, stopping for a cup in the kitchen, and hurried after him.

"You know the stairs would be easier," she said walking in to see him shoot his grappling hook out the window.

"Why travel by stair when you can travel via Deady express?" he said turning and shaking his rear at her, "Hop on."

"You'd better not drop me."

"I make no promises," he said as he hurled them out the window. Vanessa didn't breathe until he had dumped her on the rooftop.

They sat wordlessly on the edge of the roof, dangling their feet over the eight-story drop. Far away, the storm clouds could be seen slowly creeping forward as they bubbled with lightning and thunder. Vanessa cranked the cork out of her bottle of wine, pouring it unceremoniously into the plastic cups and handing him one.

He took it with a sigh, "There's no point."

"Why's that?"

He lifted his mask, taking a sip and looked at it longingly, "Can't get drunk."

"Still," she said with smirk, "It's a 500 dollar bottle, and it's on the Senator's budget."

He tossed back the wine and held out his empty cup to her, "Fill 'er up."

She frowned as she poured, "We're you serious? You can't get drunk?"

He shrugged, staring out at the storm, "No can do, toots. Tried nearly everything. Whiskey, rubbing alcohol, embalming fluid…"

Vanessa choked on her wine.

"Factor X took that away from me a long time ago," he mumbled before adding, "Took my good memories an' mortality with it."

He laid back to look up at the sky. She joined him, wondering not for the last time how and why she ended up with a spandex wearing, smart mouthed mercenary at her side. For the first time, however, she asked him something about himself.

"So you weren't born this way, then?" she asked curiously.

"Classified, Lady Gaga."

She threw her hands up at the oncoming storm, "Oh come on! I'm sure you have a nice, fat file folder full of information about me. Plus, I got punched in the face by my boyfriend this week.

"Aw, low blow. How did you guess I was a sucker for the 'I got punched in the face by my soul-eating boyfriend' card?"

"Please?"

"No I wasn't born this way," he grunted, "I was mortal. Too mortal."

"I doubt there's such a thing."

"How about you develop stage-four Leukemia an' _then_ reconsider."

She gasped.

"Damn government showed up where I was being treated," a nasty tone was growing on his voice, "Bunch of weirdo's from some edgy new division of the military. Said they had a way for me to live, for free. Called it 'Experiment X'," he shrugged, "I jumped on it like the Nazi on a landmine, 'cuz that's what you do when you're dying."

When she was silent, he continued, "I signed paperwork for about a week, then I hopped on a plane to some facility and went straight to surgery."

"When I woke up there was some dickwad over my bed. I didn't know where I was or what had happened. And I was strong. So I killed him."

Vanessa blanched.

"I was scared to shit! You don't just stand over a guy who's been getting genetic enhancement injections from a murderous mutant for three months! Anyways," he said with a huff, "they weren't happy. Apparently, the guy whose genes I got was a real pain in the ass…knuckles. Pain in the knuckles. Went crazy and killed a load of people, god bless him. So they shot me with some kind of horse tranquilizer and I blacked out again."

He had grown serious. She was beginning to realize, from the bitterness on the edge of his voice and the quiet hesitation, that there was more to him than just wisecracks and a suit.

"They shipped me off to a shit-hole of a hospital," he said, "Where they send all the failed Department K experiments to be corrected. 'Course there is no correcting, just more experiments."

He hissed, "It was hell. They did things to me…burned all the skin off my body over and over again, pulled my eyes out, cut off body parts and watched them grow back. The doctors, they had this bet, see," he shifted against the roof, "A pool to see which of us experiments would last the longest."

_Deadpool_. The hair on the back of Vanessa's neck stood up.

"I don't remember much other than excruciating pain. I suppose after a while they gave up on me, 'cuz the pain stopped bothering me, and I just kept healing. They left me in a locked room to rot. That was their biggest mistake," his voice grew dark, "Because my brain started working again. And one day, when I was the last mutant standing, they came to break me. And I broke _them_ instead."

She wanted to throw up. It was too sickening to be real. But she had seen his scarred body first hand, seen him take a bullet through the forehead and live.

"That's why I can't die. Or get drunk. Or remember life before I was a mutant."

"You don't know anything about your former life?"

He furrowed his brow, "Tiny bits. Of the cancer treatments," he shuddered, "Of my wife."

"Oh my god, you're married?"

"She's dead."

Vanessa winced. She was beginning to develop a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, it seemed. She gave up:

"I know how inappropriate this is but, what happened?"

"I dunno," he said softly, "But it was my fault."

"If you can't remember," she said more gently now, "How can you be sure?"

His voice cracked, "The guilt I feel when I think of her."

Vanessa felt awful now. She struggled to patch the sore subject, "What was her name?"

He chuckled, "Vanessa."

"Stop!" she put her hands over her face, "I already feel awful enough!"

"No joke," he said laughing at her, "You remind me a lot of her too."

It hit her just then that his hanging around her had nothing to do with her being his assignment. There was no real reason for him to be visible to her, he proved that the day he saved her from Greg. He was lonely, lonely because no one took the time to understand the man underneath his façade of jokes and foul language. No one had the patience to break down the shield he put up, long ago, to protect himself from the emotional and physical trauma of his past.

She finally understood his maddening behavior. It was his last ditch effort to try to connect with a world that had turned its back on him. And the fact that he could still crack a joke made him a modern miracle. Suddenly Vanessa had a surge of sympathy for him so strong she felt the prick of tears in her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for telling me all this."

"Sure thing, toots."

They were quiet for a long time.

"There are only two things that make me feel alive anymore," he said, breaking the silence, "And thunderstorms are number one."

The storm had reached them, boiling overhead like water in a kettle. Vanessa caught her breath as a bolt of lightning flashed nearer than what was comfortable. The crack of thunder that followed shook her to the bone. She jumped and yelped.

"Calm the fuck down, woman!"

"Alive?! More like terrified!"

"I ain't afraid of shit," he said sadly, "That's the problem toots. Lightning though…'s fun to see how long you can stand it before you run for cover."

"So what's the second thing?" Vanessa said, clearing her voice of any fear, "That makes you feel alive."

"A good romp in the sack."

"Oh."

"Nothing like a naked woma-"

"Okay!" she said laughing over the sound of thunder, "I get the point!"

A drop of rain landed on Vanessa's nose.

"I think it's finally going to start rain-"

There was a crack of thunder, and then the skies opened. The rain fell in fat, heavy drops, drenching her almost instantly. Next to her Deadpool let out a whoop of excitement, drowned out by the rain hammering against the roof.

"Holy shit!" she yelled over the rain, laughing as water ran down her cheeks and neck. There was another deep boom of thunder.

He snickered, "I can take you inside if you're too scared, princess."

She slapped the puddle nearest to him, spraying him with water. His eyes narrowed, glowing bright through the sheets of falling rain.

"Shouldn'ta done that," he said sitting up, wicked smile forming under his mask.

She gave him a look of warning, "Don't you dare."

The speed in which he darted after her took her off guard. She cursed and took off running. Soon water was flying every which way. They were laughing, drenched to the bone in cold rainwater, paying no mind to the lightning crackling in the sky around them.

The mercenary took off one of his wet gloves tossed it, doubling over with laughter as it slapped across her face and stuck there like a wet fish. Her disgusted look only made him laugh harder.

With a yell, Vanessa leapt clear onto his back.

"SON OF A-"

They wrestled for a moment, Deadpool whipping her over his shoulder and somehow getting hold of both of her hands at once.

"HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!" she laughed.

"Ancient…-OOF- Chinese…SECRET," he pinned her against his chest and suddenly they were nose to nose.

They froze.

Vanessa's heart hammered in her chest so hard she was scared he could feel it through the thin fabric of her dress. He dropped her so suddenly she stumbled back a few steps.

"Um," he scratched the back of his head. She could tell her thin white sun-dress was soaked through by the way he was looking at her, making no attempt to avert his eyes, "Maybe…um…It's getting pretty bad out here."

He wasn't lying. The wind was picking up, huge gusts pulling at the metal ducts jutting from the roof. She nodded, swallowing.

He scooped her up wordlessly.

They swooped down into the building, plunging into the pitch-dark apartment. As soon as her feet touched the ground, he was gone, leaving her shivering in the air-conditioned room, goose bumps lighting on her arms and legs.

"It's so dark," she whispered into the darkness. A pale hand extended into the light from the window. She hesitated for a moment before laying her hand in his.

Somewhere in the dark, he must have removed his mask, because when their faces met the only thing she felt was a pair of soft, warm lips pressing against hers.

Vanessa was slow to react from a combination of wine and surprise. For a fleeting moment, she thought of their conversation: how he had opened up to her, and now in his vulnerability he reached for something deeper. He trailed one rough finger down the smooth skin of her arm. Mostly, though, she thought of how much of a pain in the ass he was.

There was a strong possibility that she might actually like it.

She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. He responded with a groan, snaking his strong arms around her and crushing her against his body. Vanessa's thoughts muddled into mush.

Their kisses turned frantic. His hands trailed down the front of her dress, hiking it up around her hips before pulling it over her head, tossing the wet fabric to the floor. They wrestled for a moment as he got caught in his suit, cursing, the spandex snapping wetly as he freed himself from the sleeves. Impatient, he tossed her onto the bed before it was lower than his waist.

He was eager as he crawled over her, bed grumbling beneath his weight, shaking hands searching her body anxiously as if he were surprised she allowed him to touch her. His hands found her neck, quickly replaced by lips. She gasped, hands flying to the back of his head. He had a thick head of hair, damp and flattened slightly from his mask. Surprised, her hands drifted further, exploring unchartered territory.

Her fingers found a thick ear, turned to cauliflower from abuse, before reaching the planes of his face. Beneath her smooth fingertips were the ridges of hundreds of scars. She traced them gently, discovering a clue to the riddle she had probably known the answer to all along.

Heat was spreading quickly through her body as his hands and mouth moved south; the feeling of being discovered by someone who appreciated a woman's body was so foreign to her. He spent time worshipping even the overlooked parts of her body: the side of her breast, the crook of her elbow, the space between her hip and her thigh. By the time his mouth reached home, she climaxed so intensely she practically ripped his hair out.

"You tryin' to kill me, toots?" he murmured into her hair as he knelt, pulling her to him. Vanessa was too breathless to laugh. He gripped her hips, as their lips met once more. She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly, wanting him to feel as alive as she did in that moment more than anything in the world.

From the desperate way which he thrusted into her, she knew she had accomplished just that.

When he came, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, clutching her to his body so tightly she thought she would explode. They collapsed in a heap on the bed, when his body stopped convulsing, arms and legs tangled together like a long limbed octopus. He pulled her against him, sighing deeply into her hair.

For a long time they laid there in silence, Vanessa's ear pressed to his sculpted chest, listening to his heart rate returning to normal. With it thumping away in her ear, it was hard to imagine him as anything but completely human.

Sometime in the wee hours of the next day, Vanessa awoke. She turned her head slightly, and in the grey light of the early morning, she could see the outline of the body next to her. The hair on the back of his head was tousled. She was not surprised to see that he was blonde.

He stirred in his sleep, body rolling towards hers under the sheets.

She shut her eyes and drifted back to sleep. It's what he would have wanted.

In the morning, he was gone, as she expected he would be. Vanessa rolled over onto her side to find the sun shining through her window and onto a small plastic cup on her bedside table. The handful of weeds he had given her was blooming brilliantly in the sun.


	13. Chapter 13

Vanessa didn't see the mercenary for a week. If he was near, looking out for her, he stayed out of sight, making sure they didn't cross paths. She wasn't surprised.

Luckily, Gregory hadn't shown his face either. She was safe from the drama for now, but a feeling of dread nagged the pit of her stomach. Soon she would have to deal with the press and move out of the apartment.

Thursday, on her lunch hour, Vanessa sat in the window of the very café she had on the day of the earthquake. She sipped her coffee, watching the comings and goings of Manhattan, when a familiar face walked by.

Wade Wilson.

Vanessa jumped clear out of her chair, knocking a waiter over backwards, and powered towards the door. She burst onto the street.

"Wade," she called after him, picking up her pace. If he heard, he was doing a great job of ignoring her, "WADE!"

She saw the muscles on his back tighten through his long-sleeved shirt, "WADE WILSON, I know you can hear me!"

He stopped short and turned slowly, "Oh. Hey Vanessa."

She stopped in front of him, out of breath, "Take them off."

He opened his mouth, dumbfounded, "Wha-"

"Your glasses."

"Vanessa I-" He looked uncomfortable, but she was hell bent. She crossed her arms.

"I said _take them off_."

He sighed deeply as he reached up, mumbling something that sounded a lot like, "Your funeral."

Even though she had known what to expect, the sight of his eyes glowing white in the bright afternoon sun shocked her slightly. In this light, she could see the outline of his dark irises beneath. He looked down at his shoes.

She pursed her lips and nodded. Then she turned on her heel and began to walk away.

"Vanessa!" he called after her, "Oh come on, Vanessa-"

But she didn't look back.

Wade slid his glasses on with a sigh, "Shit."

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The sharp, rapid thuds of Colonel Nicholas Fury's steel toed boots on stainless steel flooring scattered any remaining employees left hanging around the hallways of the S.H.I. . Helicarrier. He was late, and janitors and top clearance agents alike knew that when Nick Fury was late, he was scarier than usual. And that was saying something.

The doors to the main command center slid open with a hiss as he approached.

"Sir," his assistant darted in front of him, wringing his hands nervously, "Colonel. I tried- but he… he… Frankly, I don't know how he got past a Level Five clearance sir."

Sitting at the main control panel, in his chair, with his feet up on the dashboard was the only person in these good United States not afraid of him.

"Fury! Buddy, pal o' mine! Lookin' fresh…well kind of I mean fresh as anyone gets when they only have one eye…"

_Deadpool._

Fury's contorted face changed from his usual look of displeasure to greater displeasure, "How did you get in here?"

"Ancient Chin-," The mercenary fell backwards out of the chair as Fury approached. The Colonel sat and grabbed a digitized file off his desk, tapping the screen to see that all was in order.

"Fury, listen to me," Wade picked himself off the ground.

"Wilson, you don't work for us. I even gave you your money to go away. _What do you want_?"

"Put me back on the project."

"You exposed yourself in the middle of Manhattan," the Colonel was stashing the file into the pocket of his military jacket, "And almost killed a girl. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

The mutant gave his signature shrug, "So I was a little messy in executing my plan… but you have to admit it I looked good doing it."

"The case is closed Wilson."

Fury stood up promptly, turning on his heel and heading for the conference room.

"Closed?! You can't just fucking-!" Wade ran after him, "Shit is hitting the fan in New York. Power surges, terrorist activity linked to the electrical lines below the city. Dude, come on, he's an _electrophysicist_."

"Where do you think we'd be if we chased after every man we suspected to be a mad scientist?"

"He gave her a black eye the size of Quebec!" He put a giant hand over one eye, to demonstrate, hurrying in front of the Colonel as he entered the executive conference area.

"Domestic violence," Nick Fury said calmly, "Is a case for the police. Call them and let them do their job."

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Wade whipped off his mask, slamming it down on the table.

"Are you honestly asking me that question?" Fury said rounding on him sharply.

They were scarred nose, to scarred nose when Pepper Potts walked in, slowing as she realized they were fighting.

He sighed and rubbed his brow, "This is why we hired someone who can keep their feelings out of their work to take over the case."

"Half your agents are bangin' each other and you're telling _me_?"

Fury leaned in to him, putting his pointer finger between their noses, "You listen to me, Wilson. When emotion gets involved in a case the agent jeopardizes not only the status of their identity but their lives. We do not permit such behavior in this operation."

Wade turned to Pepper and gaped at her to see if she could believe what he had said. She bit her lip and said nothing.

"Fine," Wade snatched his mask from the desk and stood.

"Stay away from that house," Fury said, not even looking up from his paperwork, "And from the Senator."

The automatic door shut cleanly behind him.

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A week passed and things returned to how they were before the Lucifer House Gala. Vanessa went to work and came home to an empty apartment day after day, trying to deny to herself that she was upset.

It was Friday afternoon when Vanessa walked into the apartment to find things not quite the way she had left them. She froze, looking at the newly opened pile of bills on the counter.

Her engagement ring was sitting right next to them.

"I've been waiting for you."

Her blood turned to ice. She turned slowly, not even bothering to set down her pocket book. Greg was sitting in the arm chair in the living room, in an eerily familiar pose.

"I was curious to why your ring was in the corner here, by my books."

Vanessa didn't move, "I'm not marrying you."

Greg chuckled, standing and moving towards her, "I see you didn't take much from our previous conversation. We'll just have to make sure that _this_ time, you do."

He moved quickly, slapping her across the face. She doubled over, choking as the heat of the blow faded to pain. _How is this happening,_ she thought through the pain, _how did I let this happen again?_

There was a sick grin on his face when she boldly turned to face him once more.

"Ahh," he put a hand to his ear, "Hear that? Nothing."

The glass in the new window stayed intact.

"Guess your friend gave up on you. Let's just test it one more time to be SURE."

The next blow knocked her off her feet. She crumpled, her feet curled under her, ankle twisted. Inside her mouth, she tasted blood. She had bit her lip. But the pain was nothing to the shocking realization that no one was coming to save her.

Vanessa stood, shakily, and faced him again with a rebellious look painted on her face. She had survived this far without a hero. Even if he beat her to death, she would go down proud.

"Now," he said reached out and wiped blood from her lower lip, "Go fix yourself up and put on something pretty. I want you smiling like a proper Senator's wife tonight."

She walked silently to the room, trying to hide her limp, and shut the door behind her.

Outside Gregory straightened his tie and sat down in front of the television. Twenty minutes passed.

"Vanessa?" he said crossing to the bedroom, "You'd better be ready," he opened the door, "Vanessa!"

The window over the fire escape was wide open. She was gone.

The second Vanessa's feet hit the pavement she took off running. She tore down the alley, headed south towards the closest busy street, ignoring the pain shooting up her leg from her twisted ankle.

"HEY!" she screamed at the first cab she saw, "TAXI!"

The car zoomed to the curb.

"Columbus circle!" she shouted, yanking the door open. The taxi took off, the cabbie peeking back at her bloodied lip and disheveled hair in the mirror.

"Lady you need a hospital or som'fin?"

"Just drive!"

"Whate'er you say," he said under his breath, handing her a napkin. Vanessa rolled her ankle a few times, wincing as the pain from the twist subsided. Her panty hose were ruined from running barefooted on the pavement.

All she had was her pocket book. No shoes, no jacket, just her ID and debit card. She clutched it to her chest gratefully. She could access her savings, every bit of the money she had saved when she was living with Gregory. The wave of comfort dissipated quickly. Her head was pounding, her eye puffing up where the Senator's heavy class ring had cut into her skin. She wiped her eyes, feeling wetness and glanced at her hand to see how badly she was bleeding. But they were just tears.

The cabbie docked near Central park. Vanessa tossed her last loose dollars at him and opened the door, jogging until she got her bearings. Then she ran for Columbus Circle.

It was the busiest intersection she could think of, and that's why she picked it. Four lanes of angry New York drivers sped around a gushing fountain, cursing and honking. The center of New York. If you wanted to be noticed, this was the place to do it. And Vanessa wanted to make a scene.

She said a quick, hysterical little prayer as she approached the Circle. Then, without a second thought to how idiotic, and dangerous, her planned seemed: she ran out into traffic.

She was narrowly missed by the closest of the oncoming cars. It swerved, tires squealing on the blacktop as it careened across all four lanes. Breaks screamed as the cars came to a sudden halt, the air erupting with a chorus of honking. Vanessa stumbled across the blacktop, head reeling with blood loss, the lights of the oncoming cars disorienting her.

Traffic came to a standstill. People were gathering on all sides of the Circle, craning their necks to see what had happened. Drivers leaned out of their car windows and shouted at her to get out of the way. Vanessa clutched her head dizzily. Her plan was failing.

_CLANK._

Then there was a rush of air as a blurred figure dropped out of the sky, landing with a metallic crunch that shook the street, directly in the center of the parted traffic. Vanessa tripped backwards, shielding her eyes to see more clearly.

It was some kind of metal robot, crouched on the ground from the force of its impact. It uncurled slowly, six feet of crimson and gold metal towered over her. From its center glowed a light suddenly so blindingly bright Vanessa squinted to make out the figure. It looked like…_no_…_it couldn't be_.

It was a man.

Vanessa scrambled backwards with shock as it started towards her, each step echoing with the sucking release of its built in shocks, and the clinking of metal on hard pavement. Its hand, quicker than lightning, whipped forward, the light from its palm pulsing menacingly.

She gave a yell of protest, sure she was about to be vaporized into dust when the faceplate slid upwards. A handsome, and familiar, face with a well-kept goatee and dark eyes were revealed.

"Miss O'Conelly?" Tony Stark lowered his hand slightly, realizing he had scared her.

"Where is he?" she shouted, voice cracking.

Tony slowly shook his head.

Vanessa raised a shaking hand to wipe her bleeding eye, "I'm _supposed_ to be his charge."

The giant, iron clad Tony Stark extended a hand to her again, "Come with me."

The crowd was silent. Vanessa nodded, stepping towards him.

"Come on, let's get you out of here," he said, voice kind, grabbing her around the waist.

She had not expected him to fly, so when he shot off into the cloudless evening she forgot to breathe. Vanessa closed her eyes as the lit skyline of New York blurred into streaks of black, grey and white, chilly air hurtling past her bare legs.

He landed in an elegant arc, dropping her lightly on her feet and she opened her eyes.

They were in some sort of airplane hangar. Above them was an assortment of high-tech aircrafts from a small, bullet-like jet to wide winged hover planes. Men and women in a style of black military regalia she had never seen before strolled about working on planes and other sorts of equipment.

Beside her, Tony was shedding his armor to some sort of magnetic device she couldn't see. It flew off him, soaring away and leaving him in an odd golden body suit.

"You're lucky we were so close to the ship!" he chuckled when he saw terrified look on her face. She was still in shock from their flight, "Or else we would have had to fly all the way to Stark Towers."

"This is a ship?" Vanessa watched as the hood of his armor lining dissipated.

A uniform clad woman hurried up to them and handed Tony an odd pair of headphones, "Welcome back, Agent Stark."

He took them, sliding them over his head and clicking the glass eye piece into place. Instantly, it glowed blue.

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D," he said, nodding his thanks at the woman, "J.A.R.V.I.S?"

"Yes, sir?" said a cool, electronic voice from the headset, the same Vanessa had heard when she attempted in calling Pepper.

"Locate Fury."

They started moving towards the massive doors at the end of the hangar.

"Colonel Nicholas Fury is in the command center. Shall I have someone prepare tea for Miss O'Conelly, sir?"

Vanessa started, "How-?"

"You think of everything, dear," Tony said casually to the voice in the headset before gesturing to Vanessa, "This way."

If they were flying, Vanessa didn't notice. The building they were in didn't feel like a ship at all, despite everyone being in uniform. Foremost it seemed to be a high-tech military base. Several scientists in white lab coats hurried by them as they progressed down the hall. Vanessa caught sight of several rooms full of computers before they reached another great pair of doors.

Tony waved his hand over a glowing panel in the wall, guarded by a man with a gun strapped to his chest. The panel glowed green.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent identified," said a woman's voice, "Avengers Sector Operative Anthony Edward Stark, please identify your guest."

"Vanessa O'Conelly, victim of heinous crimes," he said in a bored voice.

"Proceed."

The doors slid open soundlessly and Vanessa's jaw dropped.

They were certainly in a ship: the huge, five-story window at the head of the room told her that much. More agents in clean black uniforms milled around or typed away on state of the art Stark technology. Computer screens flashed with various camera recordings from around the world and bright control keys flickered on every wall. Far off Vanessa saw the young blonde man Gregory had spoken with at the Lucifer Gala conversing with Pepper's friend Natasha. And at the center of the room, on an overhang over the great windows, was the ship's command.

The man sitting in front of it, like a sailor at the helm, wore a look of great distaste. He was a tall man, well weathered and grizzly; young but with an air of undeniable wisdom. Over one eye he wore a great black patch from under which a deep scar was visible.

"This is a Level Five clearance, Stark," Fury said grumbling, "Does no one abide my clearance system?"

Tony turned to her and winked, "Don't touch anything."

She shook her head.

"Well Miss O'Conelly," he said heaving himself to his feet, "You certainly made a scene," he gestured to the work table behind him, "Sit."

They sat. Someone brought her a cup of chamomile tea.

"It's a good thing we got to you before the police did. What possesses a young woman to run into the middle of traffic and attract the attention of this operation?"

"I wasn't trying to attract your attention, I was trying to reach the guy who you assigned to protect me."

"Who?" Fury pursed his lips.

"Wade Wilson," she said as if it were that obvious, "Huge guy, red suit, foul mouth and fouler manners?"

Nick Fury sighed, "I have no idea."

"Doesn't he work for-?"

"Miss O'Conelly," Fury interrupted, "The services of free-agent Wade Wilson were employed on a temporary basis regarding your case until his prompt termination."

"He said I was his charge."

"You were," Fury raised an eyebrow, "That is until he made the unwise decision of dropping you, a civilian, unconscious on a rooftop in Manhattan. After which he was immediately removed from the assignment and replaced with Mr. Stark here."

Vanessa didn't understand. That was nearly two months ago.

"As for his whereabouts…" Nick sighed, "As unorthodox as his tactics may be, Wilson is a master of espionage. He has taken many steps over the years to cover his tracks. If he doesn't want to be found, I doubt even S.H.I.E.L.D. could locate him."

Pain and confusion settled in her chest. It didn't make any sense. Why would a mercenary spend so much time protecting her, for free, and then bail? Sure, he was unorthodox. Sure, he was a little unstable. Okay, mostly unstable. But it didn't seem right. The harsh reality of it settled in: he had gotten what he wanted from her and had hit the road. She should have seen it coming from the beginning.

"Mr. Stark has graciously offered to pay for your hotel room. I'm sure they will have the necessary amenities to tend to your various injuries."

She nodded.

"I suggest," Nick Fury rose to dismiss them, "That you stay out of traffic."

"I suggested letting you stay at home with us," Tony said on their way to the hangar, "But Pepper thought you might like some privacy."

"Thank you," she said in a tired voice, as she climbed into the helicopter that was to deliver her to Stark Towers, "For everything. You're a real hero."

"Just a man in a can!" he said with a wink.


	14. Chapter 14

It would take more than a couple bruises and a flight to the corporate headquarters of Super Hero Heaven to keep Vanessa from work.

Caked in layers of makeup, she arrived at the office and began her secretarial duties. She had signed off on UPS, Fed Ex and answered nearly all the Governor's emails and voicemails when a mailman arrived, toting a bin full of mail.

"Howdy ma'm," he was a new mailman. Vanessa smiled, a little confused. She was on first name basis with the usual mail carrier and he didn't usually arrive till after lunch.

"Hi," she smiled as he slammed the bin onto her desk, "This all for us?"

The bin was filled halfway with an assortment of bills. She pulled one off the top. ComEd to the attention of Ray Thorton.

"Welp," the mailman shrugged, rubbing the stubble on his chin, "went to drop off the mail and the box was so stuffed I couldn't fit anything else in it! Thought maybe he was out of town or somethin' and forgot to let the postmaster know. Neighbor told me the address."

"He wasn't home?" she said curiously, pulling out another letter. Another ComEd bill.

"Welp if he's home he sure hasn't emptied his box," he chuckled, "Have a nice day."

Vanessa pursed her lips. She was sure the Governor would have been at the great white house he lived in just outside the city limits. Pulling out the letter opener, she went to work opening the bills and organizing them into piles. She would just have to get them posted to his personal account herself.

But she frowned when she saw address on the bills. She knew the Governor's address by heart and this wasn't it. Nor was it the Manhattan apartment he occupied on occasion when he wanted to be closer to the office. Her eyes drifted down the page and she blinked rapidly when she saw the charges.

"Five THOUSAND dollars?" she said aloud. Jean poked her head around the corner. Vanessa cleared her throat and hid herself behind her computer.

It looked like the Governor was being billed to the wrong address. She typed it carefully into Google maps.

It was the Lucifer House.

_Why is Ray getting billed by the Lucifer House?_ She ripped open another electric bill. Same address. Seven thousand dollars, including a fee for extreme energy usage.

Something wasn't right. She did a search for the Lucifer House's website hoping to find a phone number. But there was no contact page and therefore no phone number nor even the slightest hint to how they were to be reached. Vanessa scoured her spreadsheet of Ray's cellphone contacts. Nothing.

_Have you even been inside the Lucifer House?_

The mercenary's words echoed in her head. No, she hadn't. And since someone had to go warn them that something they were doing was racking up thousands of dollars in electricity bills, she was about to. She ordered a car on the government account to take her out to the countryside. From inside it she watched overcast skies fly by and thought how wonderful it felt to escape the crushing realities that were so apparent to her when she was in the city.

It was forty-five minutes before they pulled up to the closed gates of the Lucifer House. Vanessa got out and entered through a door in the gate, trekking up the quarter mile to the manor, heels clacking on the brick drive. There was no one in sight.

She let herself in. Inside it was very quiet, the high-countered reception desk empty. Vanessa waited, sitting in the elegant chair positioned across from the desk and looking around. It was surprisingly bare for such an incredible mansion, nothing but elegant hardwood stretching out on either side of the door.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. It wasn't long before Vanessa put two and two together. She stood, crossing to the desk and peering over the counter, not surprised to find it empty. There was no telephone, no computer, not even a paper clip. _What now?_ It was so silent. With all the homeless people living in the mansion she had thought there'd be people around. She had to find _someone_. She wandered down the left hall a little.

There were repairs being done on the grand staircase she came upon. Three of the bars holding the railing upright were knocked loose, their ends charred black. There was a rusty colored hand print smeared across the rail.

She drew her breath and leaned in to take a closer look, peering past the repair supplies and down at the oriental rugs that covered the stair. There, in a yellow flower, began the trail of rusty spots. It was probably nothing, she told herself. Some drug addict must have gotten out of hand or something along those lines.

_It could be paint,_ she reasoned, _it's probably just paint._

_People have been hearing screaming from the grounds._

Without a second thought, she started up the stairs. The splatters continued left off the staircase, growing larger and more numerous down the hallway. Every few feet there was a door, mirrored perfectly on either sides of the hall, each painted stark, unnatural white. It was too white, like a hospital, or an insane asylum, rather than the cozy home the butter-yellow exterior promised. The effect was dizzying, the hallway seemed to stretch off into infinity, and she began to feel slightly claustrophobic.

The splatters grew into handprints, smeared across the walls and doorframes until they finally stopped in front of one of the doors. Vanessa, not listening to the panic inside her, reached for the handle.

There was a huge bang from inside the room. She jumped back, heart pounding. Then she took a deep breath, and turned the knob.

As she entered the stark white room her jaw dropped. Hanging across the room from her, suspended by two great cuffs, buzzing with electricity, was Deadpool. He stopped struggling to free himself when he saw her, blood dripping down his forearms. His eyes lit up.

"Wade!" she dropped her guard and ran up to him, "What happened?"

He made a muffled growling, eyes narrowing.

"Wha-OH!" She whipped off his mask, his disheveled, tawny-blonde hair springing forth. Someone had duct-taped his mouth shut in an attempt to shut him up. He gave her a panicked look as she reached in and ripped it off.

"YEEEEOOOOOWWWWWWWWohhhh MAN is it good to hear my own voice!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Hangin' out."

"Wade!" she reproached breathlessly.

"Well I'm usually pretty good at gettin' outta these situations," he looked up at the cuffs, "But your douchebag boyfriend did his research. Props for the epic rescue mission, though."

"He's not my boyfriend," her voice grew frantic as she tried to comprehend the scene, "And this isn't a rescue mission."

"Yeah you're right... that's not very practical for ass-whoopin'. Might I suggest more cleavage?"

She looked up at the giant, buzzing cuffs, a tone of disbelief on her voice, "Gregory did this to you?"

His wrists were crusted with dried blood. He had obviously been attempting to rip his hands clear off in order to free himself.

"One of his buddies tased me from behind," Wade growled, the skin between his eyebrows furrowing, "Little shit snuck up on me on my way to investigate the place. Hacked into the electric company's mainframe, like a boss!" he said in response to her look of confusion, "Sourced the power outage from a few weeks ago and this address came up."

"Oh god," she whispered, putting a shaking hand to her forehead, "What did you find?"

"Your asshole boy-"

"He's NOT my boyfriend!" she said exasperatedly, wiping makeup, now beading with anxious sweat, off her blackened eye, "After you abandoned your post _this_ happened."

He swallowed, paling, "What did I tell ya about the peas?"

"I thought I was your charge," she said a little bitterly, "Wasn't that the plan?"

"See that's the thing," he shifted in his bonds, "about me and plans. I'm more of a fly by the seat o' my pants kinda guy…"

"I've noticed."

"…and that…er…_strategy_…can result in some casualties…"

Vanessa crossed her arms.

"…an' typically the risk of a violent death doesn't appeal to women I dunno why honestly 'cuz you know guns and stuff that's totally sweet but I guess whatever fires your magnu-"

"Is there a point here?" she hissed impatiently looking at the door behind her.

"You should stay away from me, Ness. I'm no good for you."

Vanessa stared at him for a moment, trying to determine what he meant. She had heard this speech before, from a thousand other men, who lied to her as an easy escape from commitment. Her eyes flitted over his face. His eyes met hers honestly; some sort of emotion was hiding there beneath his scars. She wondered if it was even possible for him to tell a lie, knowing that he always spoke his mind.

She nodded, "Okay."

Then she turned on her heel to walk out the door.

"Hey! Wait I…um…I changed my mind. I've gotta question."

A small smile flickered on her lips as she turned around, arms still crossed, "Yes?"

"Just gonna use me for my rockin' hot bod and leave me hangin'?" The lopsided grin that crossed his face was slightly sheepish.

"Maybe," she said narrowing her eyes.

"Please?"

"What's in it for me?"

He screwed up his face in thought, "A life of barely legal violent acts, terrible pickup lines, and general bad-assery. And," he said after a moment, "me. Don't say I didn't warn ya."

"Done," she said with a grin, "Now how do we get you out of there?"

She peered up. His hands were suspended in the center of a round circuit of electricity, whirling around inside the cuffs in a tornado of static.

"It's a brilliant design actually," she whispered, thinking of Gregory angrily, "If it weren't for the electricity, you could break through these no problem. But if you were to try-"

ZAP!

He shook momentarily as he was electrocuted from the wrists down.

"Don't struggle!" she gasped, "We have to break the circuit first."

He came to panting, body limp, and the skin of his wrists smoking slightly. Fresh blood seeped onto his uniform.

She glanced around the room but it was empty save for a stark white bed, whose mattress was thrown against the left wall in the struggle.

"I'll be right back," She flew out the door, leaving him drooling against the wall, and down the stairs. In a stroke of genius, she rummaged through the buckets of paint and tools for something that could help. Nestled amongst layers of canvas covering was a rubber-handled hammer.

Vanessa hurled herself back up the stairs and down the long hall.

"Here!" she said wielding the hammer in front of her.

"I hate to break it to ya toots," he said with a flat face, "But "God of Thunder" is taken already…"

"Try not to move," she said with a roll of her eyes. She pulled the edge of the bed over to him, climbing onto it and reaching towards the cuff with the hammer. Even with the bed for help, she was just too short and had to strain to get proper advantage.

"It'll only…take…a….second!" she said grunting as she stuck the rubber handle into the left cuff and wrenched it forward. It spluttered as the hinges whined against the pressure. With a crackle of electricity, it went dead.

"No rush," came a muffled voice from her cleavage.

A moment later Vanessa had pried the other cuff open and they tumbled onto the floor, Wade breaking her fall with his arms. They lay there panting for a moment.

"You know," Wade said in a fleeting moment of seriousness. He propped himself up on his elbows, "Before I was trapped here, I _was_ watching out for you. The whole time. Even when you couldn't see me. "

Vanessa knew they should probably get up and run from this building for their lives. But she couldn't help it, words poured out of her mouth, "I know I'm not your charge. The Colonel told me."

He slapped a hand over his face, "_Damnit_. How am I supposed to impress chicks with Fury constantly making me look like a lame ass?! This is grade 'a' cockblocking bullshit."

Vanessa pushed herself into a sitting position, "Why'd you lie? You could have been halfway around the world by now, making millions on the murder scene."

He scratched the back of his neck as he helped her to her feet, looking embarrassed, "You listen to me."

"Like I have a choice," she snorted, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, but," he fumbled with his words, "You actually care what you hear. Plus I'm a sucker for a pretty face. And," he said, beginning to ramble, "I've watched you order a pizza. Pretty damn sexy, not gonna lie."

She didn't laugh. She just studied him for a moment, watching him become serious under her probing. His eyes flickered up to hers; their phosphorous glow bright even in the light of the white room, the crisp crimson of his suit was striking against his fair, scarred skin. Somewhere inside her chest, her heart gave an involuntary flutter.

"So then," she cleared her throat, nervously, "Did you mean it?"

"What's that, toots?"

"About the terrible pickup lines, and you and all that."

"Hmm," he said. He put a finger to his lips as he sized her up, "You're kinda on the small side for a sidekick, but you'll have to do."

Her jaw dropped in protest, "Sidekick! I just saved you-"

But the rest of her objection died on her lips because he pulled her in and kissed her with such force she felt her feet leave the ground. Vanessa made a sound of surprise against his mouth before she had the sense to kiss him back, her arms snaking around his neck and into his hair. When he pulled away, arms still wrapped around her, a huge, ridiculous grin was playing at his lips. The flutter in her chest turned to a storm of butterflies. She grinned back.

Then he dropped her so suddenly she yelped, "Stop trying to distract me from superhero stuff, woman!" He headed for the door, one finger pointed like a deranged Napoleon Bonaparte, "To the exit!"

Shaken from her moment of bliss, Vanessa stumbled after him, half running to keep up with his lengthy stride.

"Wait a second!" she said, half whispering, half yelling, "Didn't you come here to find out what Greg is up to?"

He froze, causing Vanessa to run head-long into his back, "Ouch!"

"Oh yeah…" his face lit up as the light bulb in his head clicked on. Then he beamed at her and slapped her on the back, the force of his huge hand knocking the breath out of her, "Not such a shit side-kick after all, eh toots?"

"That way," Vanessa pointed, still gasping for air. They hurried down the stairs and along the corridor in silence. Deadpool's booted feet barely made a sound on the wood floor.

"How," Vanessa hissed from behind him, "Are you so quiet? YOU!"

The hall seemed to go on forever, windows and lights disappearing one by one. There was a large metal door at the end, a circular dial in its center. The mercenary sized it up, his hands on his hips.

"My sweet as fuck ninja skills," he said in response, opening one of the pouches on his waist. He began flinging objects out of it as he searched, "Hold these."

He handed her a tooth, three sticks of gum, a grenade with the Canadian flag painted on it and a rubber chicken.

"What in the world?"

"Ah here we are," he pulled a stethoscope from the pouch, bringing a rain of Waffle House coupons with it. He stuck the tubes in his ears and held the chest piece up to the metal door, turning the dial back and forth.

She stifled a laugh, "Okay James Bond-"

The lock clicked and the door swung inwards.

"Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me," laughed Vanessa in a low whisper as she followed him inside.

They stepped out onto the top platform of a set of metal stairs. Below them was a long, dark room. From side to side were lab tables, several of them covered in chemistry supplies, their stainless-steel surfaces radiated the moonlight streaming in from the tiny windows near the ceiling. Deadpool dropped to a crouch and descended, Vanessa in tow, boots clanking on the iron stairs.

They came out behind a row of tables, ducking down behind a group of glass Erlenmeyer flasks.

"It doesn't look like anyone's here," Vanessa said in a very slight voice. She had decided the second they entered the room that this was a bad idea, and the tugging worry in the pit of her stomach was growing by the second.

"Ooo," Wade peered through the blue liquid in one of the flasks, the glow from his eyes casting patches of distorted cerulean light onto Vanessa's skin, "_Science_."

"Don't touch anything!" she said, slapping his wrist as his hand reached forward.

"Maybe," his eyes widened excitedly, "_Maybe_ he's making explosives."

Vanessa shook her head, "I don't think so. That," she pointed at a box of test tubes on a nearby table, "Is a centrifuge. It's used for mixing blood samples and medicines and such."

Wade stood up and weaved between the tables, towards the computer on the far side of the room, "Gimme a minute, I bet I can guess his password."

She glanced warily at the door, "Alright but hurry up."

She wandered over to the wall beneath the stairs. There was a peculiar set of metal drawers there, lining the wall from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Each three-foot square was marked with a hanging clipboard. Vanessa reached for one and flipped through the pages.

"Wade," she said in a low voice, "Come here."

"Wait this game of minesweeper is going really well- AW DAMNIT!"

"WADE!"

"Bombs," he said getting up and shaking his head, "Little bastards get me every time."

"Look at this," she said as he appeared at her shoulder. The page was marked with a picture of a dirty, bedraggled man wearing a surgery gown. Beneath it was a number, "Patient 00021."

Deadpool frowned, pulling down a second clipboard, "Twenty-two isn't lookin' so hot. He looks kinda-."

"Homeless," Vanessa said sharply, her voice echoing throughout the silence of the big room, "These are all homeless men. These stats, beneath, they're from some kind of experiment, listen, 'Patient 00021. Fifty-Four year old male, type A positive'…"

"Likes long walks on the beach, cat-hoarding, and cheese boards."

Vanessa ignored him and read on, "'Allergic reaction to injections: patient broke out in full body rash and succumbed to anaphylactic shock. Cause of death: heart attack. Death at oh-eight hundred…date…' this was only two weeks ago!"

She stopped talking abruptly; gaping at the drawer she was standing in front of, gooseflesh rising on her skin. Wade quirked an eyebrow, reaching for the drawer handles.

"Don't," she said feebly, catching his hand.

A look of recognition passed over his face as he looked up at the rows and rows of drawers, "This is a morgue," he picked up patient twenty-two's test-results, "'Did not survive the electro-fusion sequence.'"

"Let's get out of here," Vanessa dropped the clipboard like a hot potato, her voice shaking.

"Agreed."

They practically flew from the building.

"Fusion," Vanessa said as they reached the car she had ordered that morning, the driver still snoring loudly in the front seat, "It's odd isn't it? Creating electrically fused humans… it doesn't make any sense."

Wade wrenched open the car door, "Makes perfect sense."

"Why's that?"

The driver startled as they settled into their seats.

"He's tryin' to make human tasers," he grumbled, "An' I hate tasers."

"Super heroes," Vanessa said with a gasp.

"More like Villains."

"Miss?" The driver peeked at them in the mirror, "Where am I going."

"Stark Tower," Vanessa said swiftly, "I think I've had enough work for today."


	15. Chapter 15

"Well we know one thing for sure," Vanessa said as she waved her keycard over her hotel room door and pushed it open, "Governor Thorton is somehow backing these twisted murders they're calling experiments."

"Holy…." Wade tilted his head back as he entered the hotel room. It was certainly a sight. Two story windows looked out over the skyline of Manhattan, the image reflected in the sleek, onyx black floors that swept from wall to wall. A stainless steel kitchenette, accented in rich mahogany cabinetry housed a fine cooking platform, a fresh bottle of champagne resting in a chiller upon the marble counter, "Who's INSERT INAPPROPRITE THING HERE to get this room?"

"Tony Stark, if you must know," she sighed and looked up to the high rafters, "It's rather ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Think of the gun storage! The parties! The pancakes!"

Vanessa started up the spiral stairs to the loft, "If I knew how those things fit together, I might."

Upstairs was a king sized bed draped in some-thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets and a rich, silk bed spread the color of wet slate. Vanessa tugged off her shoes and kicked them towards the closet, "What are we going to do? Should we tell S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Wade swirled his mask around one finger, as he sat on the end of the bed, "Um, see, that's not the best idea you've ever had."

Her eyes narrowed, "What did you do?"

"I," he gestured to himself with a flourish, "Merely followed my instincts. And my instincts led me to the Lucifer House."

"And?"

"And," he said, "Nick Fury, on occasion, can be a stubborn shit-for-brains-"

"Wade!" she said impatiently.

"He told me not to go," he jumped up, so exasperated he sounded fleetingly sane, "Which is _retarded_, obviously, and I mean whaddid he expect me to just sit around," he flat-handedly gestured to the bed, "shittin' the breeze when I was a thousand percent positive that you're wack job-"

"He's not my boyfriend," the corner of her mouth lifted into a small smile; "You violated the wishes of an espionage-trained, government appointed Colonel with a bad-attitude to pull a superhero move? Are you insane?"

He stuck out his hip and waggled a finger at himself, "Will I ever learn?"

She went into the closet to change, shaking her head, "Well that was pretty noble."

"Noble?" he said following her, his step swaggering, "Oh yeah. Well, you know, tryin' to be a hero and stuff because- because-," Vanessa tossed her shirt to the ground and raised an eyebrow as his eyes glued to her chest.

"You were saying?"

"What?" he swallowed, laser eyes still magnetized to her bra, "I was saying something?"

She pulled on her shirt, "I'm pretty sure the whole 'my eyes are up here' schtick is useless on you," she patted his shoulder as she passed, "But try to focus.

Vanessa pulled a face as her thoughts returned to the Lucifer House, "I should have gone back to work," she said, stepping out of the closet, "I need to confront the Governor. I need to _find_ the Governor. And I need to run back to the apartment to get my stuff."

"Yeah…" he said, still distracted. He suddenly jumped towards the door, "Wait…what-? Hold on a sexy-second. You're not going anywhere."

She pulled an incredulous face.

"Don't you give me that look…missy," he added quickly, "There is no way in hell I'm gonna let you out of this room, with that maniac tryin' to find you. An' there ain't an army of weaponry that could change my mind."

He crossed his arms.

"But I have to go to work!"

"No."

"But-"

"_No_. You're my charge."

She threw up her hands, "Not anymore! And I don't need your permission to do anything. The Senator thought he could beat me into listening and I still wouldn't," she closed the space between them and poked his huge pectoral sharply, "Go ahead. Try to make me."

He looked down at her with an expression half amused and half irritated, "As sexy as this is, it's not going to work.

"Wade!

"_VANESSA_."

She startled; he had never used her full name before. It wasn't until that moment that she truly appreciated his size, not until he was towering over her with a look on his face so irate it could have scorched the sun.

When he saw the fear in her eyes his face softened, "Listen, toots, you got your lights knocked out on my watch. If you think I'm gonna let that happen again you're crazy. You're-You're my…we-er…you know…."

It occurred to Vanessa that he was trying to tell her he cared about her, and didn't know how. She put a hand on his arm, "I get it, Wade. You don't have to explain it to me."

He looked relieved, "I'm gonna use your shower 'cuz I smell like I've been hangin' on a wall for a week," he pointed at the floor between them, "Don't. Move."

She held her hands up innocently.

He directed his finger at her face, "Swear on pizza."

"I hardly think that's necess-"

"SWEAR ON PIZZA!"

She bit her lip in an attempt not to laugh, "Fine I swear on pizza. Pepperoni, even."

He nodded curtly and headed for the bathroom. She sighed and went to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Oh," he said poking his head out of the bathroom door, suit half on, "And when I get back we're ordering pizza."

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Vanessa woke the next morning slightly disoriented. It had been a long time since she had fallen asleep in anyone's arms, especially Gregory's, who liked his space while sleeping. But Wade slept with her crushed to his chest like a teddy bear, both huge arms wrapped around her body, the steady rise and fall of his breath sending her hair to tickle her cheek.

She wriggled free, the tight grip he had on her long gone slack with sleep, and lay back on the pillow for a moment watching him. He looked so young: the scars peppering his neck and jaw less prominent in his restful state, the curve of his lips relaxed from his near constant grin.

_How had I not known?_ she thought suddenly. Now that she had revealed his identity, her ignorance surprised her. How could she have missed the signs: the same crook of a huge smile just visible under his mask, the same monstrous build, the same whip-quick humor and terrible jokes? There was something else similar, as well: the innocence in his eyes that made it incredibly difficult to reprimand him because she knew he didn't comprehend what it meant to be offensive.

It made it even harder to betray him now.

"Wade," she said gently, shaking his shoulder, "Wake up."

The gurgling moan he emitted as akin to a bear waking from hibernation.

"Wade?" she said carefully, "I think I should go to work. It's seven am."

"Mmmughrbarhrhrgggg," he protested, turning away from her and pulling the pillow over his head.

"Okay then!" she jumped up, "Well as long as it's alright with you!"

Vanessa closed the door of the closet as she changed, hurrying, less he wake up and catch her in the act. Then, quiet as a mouse, she grabbed up her pocketbook and hurried out the door. When the cool air of the morning hit her face she stopped let out a hysterical, slightly manic laugh. If he found she was gone, he would be furious, and if she delayed any longer the nervously fluttering beat of her heart would be enough to chase her back inside. She headed towards the subway.

There was blind determination coursing through her veins that day, an adrenaline rush reviving her more readily than any amount of coffee could accomplish. Today was the day she looked for the Governor. On the train she made lists in her head: places she could visit, contacts she could call. She would find him if it was the last thing she did. At the Municipal building she entered the elevator with purpose, ready to beeline for her desk the second the doors slid open.

She froze. Down the stretch of polished wood flooring and beautifully paneled cubicles, the doors to the governor's office were wide open, revealing a filled desk. They locked eyes.

Vanessa quickly gathered her poise and hurried to her desk, putting a shaky hand to smooth back free hairs into her bun. She hadn't imagined this as a possibility that he would be here, sitting at his desk as if no bitter words had been exchanged and he had simply been on vacation.

What was she to do? _Perhaps I should call the police_, she thought over the pounding of her heart; _tell them he's funding murders._

That wouldn't do. She would have to explain the circumstances, and they would get in touch with S.H.I.E.L.D. and then they would know Wade was snooping where he had been forbidden to snoop. Besides, maybe the Governor didn't know what he was paying for.

The intercom on her desk crackled, "Vanessa, if I could see you in my office please?"

The aisle to his office, which had always seemed to her to stretch on for miles, seemed eerily short today. There was no time to think, no time to gather herself. All she could do was knock on the open door.

"Come in Ms. O'Connelly."

He was facing away from the desk, the wide leather back of his chair to Vanessa. In one swift motion he rotated to face her. Vanessa felt her jaw drop.

Something had happened to him. The Governor had always been large, broad-shouldered and sturdy. But the man sitting across the desk from her was gigantic: his pressed, white shirt could hardly contain the bulk beneath them, straining at the collar and arms, the buttons near bursting. Beneath the flimsy fabric Vanessa could make out the individual muscles on his abdomen and the wide curve of his chest. Even his hands, one wrapped around a tiny espresso cup, looked gargantuan. He waved one of them at her now, gesturing for her to close the door behind her.

She took the moment to recover, "Governor Thorton, wonderful to see you back."

"Wonderful indeed," the smile he gave her was unsettling, "It seems that a trip away from this madness we call a city has been _shockingly_ beneficial to my health."

"Glad to hear it."

It was such casual chit-chat Vanessa wanted to scream and bash him over the head with his vintage crystal bourbon decanter. But she was still distracted, slightly estranged by the changes in his body, so much so that she was transfixed.

"I'm glad to see you kept everything in order despite your absences."

Vanessa stuttered, "Excuse me?"

"Yes," his voice was cold, "I know about your little vacation to the country side yesterday. Cameras, after all, are a wonderful technology of this century. I suspect your friend is well?"

Her blood turned to ice, paralyzing her speech.

"Surely you know not to play dumb, Vanessa, it doesn't suit you. I'm sure you're familiar: great, red clad oaf with the loud mouth. Oh," the corners of his mouth curled up as, "I didn't realize this was a delicate subject. Curious how he lived, losing that much blood."

She glared at him, her heart quickening at the mention of the Mercenary.

"That is how you found us, isn't it, the masked man who has been trailing in your wake for the last two months?"

Words left her lips before she could stop them, "I found him by accident."

"Oh?"

"You might want to be more careful with your electric bills."

The Governor smiled that uncomfortable smile again, "You're too smart for your own good, Ms. O'Connelly. Far too smart. That said," He continued with a curious expression, "It's a wonder to me why you have failed to obey Senator Kilibrew's wishes to tame you."

Her eyes widened as recognition swept her, "I knew it, I knew you two were in this together. _You're a murderer_."

There was an intensity in his beady eyes, some sort of flickering force that left him looking eerily inhuman, "I will give you a piece of advice, Ms. O'Connelly, one that I recommend you take with you when you leave this room," suddenly he stood, his towering figure silhouetted against the lofty windows of his office. The room beyond him fell into shadow, "Do as Dr. Killibrew recommends and you will keep your position in my office intact. Along with the life of your lunatic escort."

"Well then there's one less thing you have to take care of," her words were calm but there was a dragon of rage inside her, bubbling furiously up her throat and out her mouth, "I quit."

She whipped around, skirt whirling and wrenched open the door, stomping out so swiftly she didn't catch the Governor's last words:

"_So be it_."

The heavy address book on her desk, full of all the Governor's contacts, was the first to go. Vanessa scooped it up, strutted over to Jean's desk, and dropped it with a great thud. Jean's plump face jiggled in surprise as papers scattered every which way.

"Have fun!" Vanessa said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Goodbye Jean."

She grabbed her purse off her desk, her jacket with one hand, and strode out of the office.

Shock didn't settle in until she made it outside. She came to her senses in the crisp air, her thoughts spinning to comprehend what just happened

_I just quit my job. This is a movie, this isn't real. It isn't real. _

"Taxi!" her foot stepped off the concrete and onto the pavement, arm raised to hail a passing cab. Inside she rummaged through her handbag.

"Shit!" she cursed, realizing she left her phone on her desk.

The cabbie jumped and looked at her in the mirror.

"Do you have a cell phone?"

"No m'am," he shrugged, "Sorry."

Vanessa frantically chewed on a nail, thinking, "I need a phone. Immediately. Where are we? State," Gregory's apartment was around the corner. It would have to do, "Take a left here!"

The cabbie pulled a hard left, sending her flying across the back seat.

"Could you wait just a moment?" Vanessa fluttered her eyelashes at the young cabbie, "I'll be just a moment."

"Uh, sure! No problem m'am."

He shut off the meter.

"Be right back."

Vanessa flew out of the car and into the elevator, heart racing. When the doors slid open she peered around the corner of the elevator car. No Gregory. In fact, the hallway was quiet empty. But better safe than sorry: she would knock, she decided, just to see if he was home. But there was no answer so she slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open.

The apartment was eerily silent. Vanessa crossed to the landline phone shoved into the back of the kitchen and dialed the operator, asking to be sent to Stark Towers.

The phone rang four times and then went to voicemail.

"Wade," she raised her voice a bit, hoping that she would wake him, "Don't panic…or kill anyone… I'm alright. The Governor's in cohorts with the Senator and we have to call S.H.I.E.L.D. as soon as possible," she paused, winding the cord around her fingers nervously, "He's planning something, I know he is. I'll be back soon."

The red off button beeped as she pressed it, and she set the phone down, heading quickly for the bedroom. She grabbed one of Greg's old duffle bags from the closet and shoved a few choice outfits in it. Her mother's pearl necklace followed, along with her bank paperwork and toiletries.

She set her luggage on kitchen-island, rummaging through it to make sure everything was in order, and then strung the pearls around her neck to keep them safe. She looked up into the mirror across from her to fasten it.

There was a man standing behind her.

Vanessa's scream was silenced as a cold hand clamped over her mouth, her nostrils instantly filling with the smell of rotting bananas. She struggled, but her body had suddenly turned to lead, her head fuzzy with the blurry white spots that were forming in front of her vision.

And then everything went black.

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_Hello all, this is your author speaking._

_Just a quick note to say I have been reading all the wonderful pieces of encouragement and praise I've received for this story. Sometimes writing is as much chore as it is joy: writing some of these chapters, such as this one, when inspiration has been pretty nonexistent is the equivalent of walking through a pool of molasses. If that's not a good metaphor for you imagine trying to have a serious conversation with Deadpool that's not about food or artillery and you'll pretty much understand what writing has been for me this last week._

_In other words: I couldn't have gotten this far without so much support. Thank you for your patience and reassurance! There's more to come!_


	16. Chapter 16

Vanessa dreamed she was strapped to an operating table, a team of grotesque doctors with faces like that of a Picasso prying off her skin with scalpel blades only for it to grow back over and over again. A green haired doctor in a set of neon-purple scrubs stood above her with a hammer whispering, "_This will only hurt a little_."

As he brought the hammer down onto her head, his smile grew bright red and garish until his face was all lips and teeth, her ears filled with the horrific sound of him cackling.

She jerked awake.

Her mind was foggy, pain was radiating through her head like blasts from a jackhammer, her eyes still puffy with sleep. She tried to open them but the dim red glow of the room blinded her and she shut them again, until the pounding in her head subsided. Reality slowly seeped into her mind.

"What happened?" she muttered, still woozy from the drugs that had pulled her under the blanket of unconsciousness. Her body felt heavy, her limbs limp and loose.

"Ah finally awake," said a familiar voice. Though there was something there she didn't recognize, a kind of shaky nervousness she was too weak to understand.

Vanessa reached down to rub her stinging eyes and met resistance at her wrists, "What the…"

Her eyes snapped open. She was suspended vertically against the curve of a cold wall her wrists bound in electrical shackles above her head. The room she was facing was round, lined with a metal walkway that ran its circumference, a great circular metal sheet in the middle. Farther off she could see that this room connected to another and beyond that another, a great network of metal walkways and stone floors. Near her was a podium with a dial pad on it. Fiddling with the flashing blue and green lights was Gregory Killibrew.

Vanessa opened her mouth again and assaulted him with a colorful assortment of curse words.

"My, my," Greg said, his nervous drawl turning bored, "I do think you've been hanging around with the wrong sort of crowd."

He was wearing a stark white lab coat that made his carefully tamed swoop of hair look inky black in the red glow of the room. There were bags under his eyes and as he crossed to her Vanessa felt a little stab of pain for him in her chest even despite the abuse she had taken.

"Comfy?" he said, his voice wavering between that sarcastic tone and discomfort she had heard there before.

"Where are we?" she said looking up. It appeared to be some sort of silo, from the high ceiling.

"It doesn't concern you," he said, avoiding her eyes, "You've already done your job."

"Is this your revenge, Greg?" she said softly, "For running after you beat me? Are you going to turn me into one of your experiments?"

He swallowed uncomfortably as he checked her shackles.

"Greg?"

Under the gentle tone of her voice his eyes flitted upwards to hers. Beneath the manic intensity in them Vanessa saw a bit of longing, a tiny flicker of the love they once shared.

It didn't last more than a moment, for a second later a heavy red boot kicked it off his face.

Gregory went sprawling across walkway, limbs spread eagle, his head clunking uncomfortably against the metal railing.

"Paging Dr. Strangelove," the mercenary said as he dropped out of his side-kick, "I've got an appointment!"

"Wade," Vanessa sighed with relief, "Thank god."

Greg was stirring feebly. With a groan he hooked his arm around the railing and struggled to his feet, a hand reaching up to wipe away the blood beading on his split lip. He slowly turned to face Wade again, disgust growing on his haggard face.

The Mercenary swung an arm down and pulled the doctor up by the front of his lab coat, "Let me give you a piece of advice," he snarled, "Stringing a chick up in your crazy-chamber ain't the way to her heart. Am I going to have to kill you in front of this here pretty lady to get it through your head?"

He smashed Gregory's face into the railing. The senator's head lulled as he was righted again, nose streaming scarlet blood onto the front of his coat. To Vanessa's surprise, a slow smile was spreading across his face.

"I had no idea the plan would work so fast," he chuckled drunkenly into Wade's fist, "No idea."

Just as the Mercenary's eyebrow quirked beneath his mask, the silo echoed with the grinding of metal gears. A great steel door began rising just to the right of them, drowning out the Senator's mad laughter.

The room suddenly felt odd, as if the very air they breathed had become alive with energy. Vanessa's scalp began to crawl with a shivering sensation; her hair rising vertically from her head, tickling the inside of her arms.

Beyond the door came a flurry of brilliant light: a dark, hulking shape silhouetted against it.

"I don't recommend that," came a booming voice.

It was a monster, towering seven feet tall over the crimson-clad Mercenary, who looked, for perhaps the first time, dwarfed in comparison. From its great hands came bright white-blue light, electric currents flowed easily from his fingertips, cerulean sparks forming discharge between his fingers like feathery spider webs. As dancing worms they climbed, zapping, up his wrists and his elbows. But it wasn't the disproportionately large muscle mass, nor the impossible electric current that was emitting from him that made a scream slip through Vanessa's vocal cords. It was the shining black eyes, the electric tangerine hair that had been previously rusty and streaked with grey.

Ray Thorton.

Wade tossed the limp Senator aside at this new threat, "What the fuc-?"

"Good evening, Mister Wilson," the Governor flickered like a broken circuit, "I'm Ray Thorton. Welcome to our humble abode."

The mercenary brought a finger to his mask and tapped his lip, "Ray Thorton… Ray Thorton….Hmm," he shrugged, "I gotta be honest with you dude, this ain't ringin' any bells."

Through the blinding light Vanessa saw the massive politician's eyes narrow, "The Governor of New York."

Wade slapped his knee, "Oh yeahhhhhh!" he put his hand on his hip, bringing the other to point at the Governor, "You look different. Didya get a haircut or something?"

"I-"

"No really. Get some work done? Have a chemical peel? Man oh man do you look-"

"ENOUGH!" electricity shot up the Governor's bare chest to his neck; "You've pestered me for far too long."

Wade snapped his fingers, "I gottit. You lost weight. Congratulations, man, you must be thrilled."

Then he moved so fast Vanessa couldn't track his movements. It wasn't until the metal in the room as singing with the explosion of gun fire that she realized he had pulled a pistol from his hip.

But the Governor was prepared. With a grunt his body surged, the currents so strong they froze the bullet in thin air, inches from his blazing skin. With a roar, he lumbered after Wade, the metal walkways shaking with his weight.

Vanessa's shout caught in her throat. Wade ducked, dropping straight under Thorton and appearing unharmed on the other side. With a well-placed kick he sent him stumbling, grabbing a knife from his belt. It was a blur of silver and black until it too froze inches from the Governor's body.

"This is like real life Super Smash!" Wade said whipping a flurry of knife-tipped stars at the other, "You're Bowser and I'm the cool guy with the green hat and the tights," he frowned, "Minus the tights. Cuz I'm, you know, not a pansy. Whoa!"

The Governor had surged power into his hands and in a stroke of his own murderous genius dropped them to the metal floor. Wade jumped sideways, kicking off the wall and launching himself onto the bottom of the next floor of metal walkways. He clung by his hands, diving over the other as Thorton raised glowing fingers to catch the Mercenary's boot. Greg, who was coming to when the Governor sent currents through the metal floor, fell backwards onto the stone flooring unconscious.

Vanessa had never seen anyone move like that, save for in Kung-Fu movies. Wade had turned to a blur of bullets and scarlet limbs so fast it was a wonder he ever scarred at all. He was unstoppable, untouchable, and he was grinning like a fool. It wasn't until the warring men grazed the handrail with bared skin at the same time that either of them thought he could be anything but.

The results were instantaneous. Wade's body quivered with electricity for a moment and then he dropped like a sack of bricks with a sonorous clank that shook the room.

Helplessly stuck to the wall, Vanessa screamed as her last escape from this place was dragged off. She struggled, and suddenly a jolt shook her from her wrists to her feet, sending her into unconsciousness once more.

It was dark in the circular silo when she awoke. Vanessa gasped awake, shivering. It was freezing in the room, and she could see her breath in the dim light in front of her. As her head cleared she became aware of another body hanging next to her, a dark silhouette whose head hung forward.

"Wade!" she whispered frantically into the dark, sending the limp tangles of her hair into her face, "Wade wake up!"

"Zzzzz extra cheese you moron," he mumbled in his sleep, "Mmmphepperrroni."

"WADE."

"Whasshappening-" the space to her right was suddenly illuminated by two thin pillars of light, followed by a long groan.

"Are you okay?" Vanessa's voice was panicked, "Oh my god Wade I'm so sorry. We have to get out of here I have no idea what they're going to do with us!"

"Vanessa?" he croaked.

"Think of something quick-!"

She finished in a gasp for room was suddenly illuminated. Vanessa felt her heart jump from pounding to racing as the steel door rose.

Ray Thorton strode in, his hands no longer illuminated by the garish electrical force, Killibrew trailing in his wake. He stopped in front of them, rubbing his hands together, "Well, well, I see we are awake! Dr. Killibrew?"

The Senator handed him the thick manila folder he had tucked under his arm.

"What do you want with us?" Vanessa's voice was tremulous.

"You," Thorton said as he took the folder, "Miss O'Conelly, we're a mere piece in this game. Now, let's see here…" he flipped through the folder, its cover labeled with a smart red 'confidential' stamp, "Wade Winston Wilson..."

"Don't wear it out!"

"…Free-lance Mercenary, no government affiliation, known by the alias _Deadpool_," the Governor paced the metal walk as he read, "fluent in ten languages, including Russian, German and Japanese…"

"_Konnichiwa_," growled Wade.

"Expert assassin and weapons specialist, professional Sumo wrestler, master status in Taekwondo, both Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Japanese Jujutsu, as well as a number of other things," the Governor nodded, "All _very_ impressive. And yet," his smile made Vanessa's skin crawl, "here we are. I must say, Mister Wilson-

"I prefer 'your Highness,' actually-"

"You are a rather elusive man, you must know, considering the brazen manner in which you ramble about New York. It was rather difficult to procure you. That is, until we realized you had a weakness," he turned his frightening smile onto Vanessa, "And she was not so hard to obtain."

Heat rose to Vanessa's face. It was all her fault, she knew, if she had just listened to Wade the evening prior when he told her not to leave they wouldn't be in this pickle. Now she would die, and he would have to watch and be haunted by the memory forever.

"Wade," she whispered to him, tears forming in her eyes, "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

"Can I ask you something?" he interrupted, ignoring the Governor.

She peered around her arm to look at him. Her heartstrings twisted painfully as she met his eyes, "What?"

"You wanna hang out sometime?"

It took her a moment to realize that he was making a joke. When she did, she did the most inexplicable thing: she laughed. The two politicians watched as hilarity took the both of them. They were shaking, tears running down their faces, cheeks slowly coloring red.

"I wish you weren't so hung up on me!" Vanessa responded, shaking tears from her eyes. The mercenary gave a snorting giggle.

"Enough," the skin by the Governor's eyes twitched irritably.

"Wait, wait, wait, he wants to tell us his evil master-plan now," Wade hiccupped back to seriousness, "and the _suspense_ is killing me."

Their peals of laughter echoed across the room.

"SILENCE!" the lights in the room flickered as the Governor's hands suddenly lit with teal current. Vanessa fell silent.

"Oh man," Wade's chuckles subsided, "that was rich."

The Governor's face was reddening with rage, veins bulging on his brow and neck, "It will be my greatest pleasure in hearing you silenced forever you empty-headed, half-witted-"

"You forgot sexy. Definitely sexy."

"NONSENSICAL, _MORON_ OF A BOY," the Governor's hair loosed, flinging in limp, greasy strands down the side of his face. His eyes had turned crazy with rage, bulging from his skull like a mad man.

Vanessa gave a sardonic laugh, "Silenced? You can't kill him, it isn't possible."

"Oh yes," the Governor's voice lowered to a scary calm, his lips curled back over his teeth, "I almost forgot…"

He drew another folder from within the first. It was bright, garish yellow, marked across the center with a sharp, black 'X.'

Wade drew in a sharp breath so quiet, only Vanessa heard it, "How did you get that?"

"There are benefits to working for the US government."

The mercenary made a sound like an enraged bear, "Those files aren't yours to steal, dumb ass. _You don't know what you're dealing with_."

Thorton chuckled, "Certainly not. But Dr. Killibrew and I wish to start _small_. This, your demise, that is, is but the first step in our plan."

"Let me guess, you want to take over the world?"

The Governor's brow darkened and he turned away from them, "Fear, it seems, is a powerful tool. And with this power," he held his hand up, studying it with the fondness of a father to his newborn child. Bursts of energy played around his fingertips, "I can control more than just the government. I can control all."

"You're just one man!" Vanessa burst in, "This world is full of heroes-"

"Heroes!" the Governor spat, "Pah! You think I can be stopped by a handful of men in latex footy-pajamas? The people will be my army. Once they fear me, once the masses of citizens fall to my side: I will be unstoppable."

She shook her head, "I didn't mean _super_-heroes. People are too good for this, for you. There's police and firemen and wonderful good hearted people who will stop you!"

Thorton stepped towards her, his snarling face dangerously close to hers, "Who do you think granted access to the city's underbelly to those terrorist thugs?" his shouts made her ears ring, "Who do you think blew those tunnels away to make room for his electrical rerouting you idiot citizens thought were earthquakes? Who drained New York's electricity for his own use?"

Vanessa gasped.

"It was an experiment, all an experiment. And as the hypothesis revealed, soon the city of New York will be mine."

He stepped away from her, smiling smugly, "But first, a favor to my friend, who made this all possible," he held a palm out to Greg, "Dr. Killibrew, if you please?"

Greg's eyes flashed, "It would be my pleasure."

The Senator cranked the knob on the dial in front of him. There was suddenly a roar of metal scraping on metal. The disc in the center of the silo began to shift.

"Dr. Killibrew, it seems, has discovered a solution to this unfortunate little healing factor of yours!" Thorton held his arms out grandiosely as the silver disc slid away.

Revealed was a massive vat, entirely glass and filled with a clear liquid Vanessa would have thought to be water if it hadn't been hissing and spluttering with bubbles. Great clouds of vapor poured off its surface, burning the hairs clean off her nasal passages and searing her throat with every breath.

"Fluoroantimonic acid," the Governor said with a flourish of his hand. Great iron chains dropped from an unknown point on the ceiling, "A little bath for all the trouble our dear _friend_ has caused us."

Wade swore under his breath, "Oh shit."

Vanessa's eyes wheeled between the Governor and the Mercenary, "What? Wade what does he mean? It can't- it couldn't?!"

His voice sounded very far away, "I dunno. No one's ever tried."

She paled. It had never been a possibility in her mind that he would ever be in any kind of danger. He was immortal, indestructible. He was Deadpool. Now a thousand sirens were blaring in her mind. _No, stop, this isn't how it was supposed to be. He can't die._

Vanessa was suddenly stricken with silence as pain took her, joined by a numb feeling of realization. The twisted team of politicians began preparing the chains. Her jaw clenched as Wade turned to her.

"Ness," he said gently.

She shook her head, tears biting her eyes.

"Listen to me," he whispered, "Vanessa you have to listen. _Think_. If this- if I'm a goner, get outta here an' call Stark."

In response Vanessa let out a sob.

"Vanessa, woman, stop crying and listen," their eyes met. She was surprised to see his were red-rimmed, their glow diminished slightly. But there was no fear in his dark irises, only a deep sadness. His voice broke, "I love you. I've loved you from the second you smashed my nose in on that rooftop," he shook his head, "I didn' ever think I'd find anyone, that anyone would want a shit-sack mutant like me."

Her stomach turned over and over inside her, but a small smile lit her lips.

"You're not a mutant," she sniffled back her tears, "You're a hero. You're _my_ hero."

His smile was so wide it lit up his face like a Christmas tree.

"This is all very sweet," Thorton clasped his hands together, "But I was never one for romance."

He zapped Wade gently on the shoulder and the mercenary fell limp. Vanessa panicked, her breath rising in her chest.

"No," she whispered helplessly, "You _can't_."

"Men," the Governor whispered as he punched the release button on the cuffs, Wade dropping weakly out of them, "Run this world, Miss O'Conelly. Don't fool yourself. And stay out of our way."

Wade was too weak to struggle out of the massive, monstrous man's grasp, but he looked up at him with an amused look.

"Only you would die laughing."

They were halfway to the vat when Wade called out, "Wait!" his eyes had suddenly widened, curiously, "Let me give her a token of my love!" he called dramatically, "My dying wish!"

He tugged off a red glove and threw it to Vanessa. And with extraordinary aim, it landed in one of her bound hands.

The Governor snorted, "As you wish."

"No! WADE NO!" she was struggling now, soon enough she would zap herself on her cuffs and be unconscious. She didn't care: she would fight forever.

Tears flowing freely down her face as Thorton dragged him onto the stone floor and up the platform, strapping the chains around his body. Across the room his eyes locked with Vanessa's and he winked.

She couldn't watch. With one hand clenched around the soft, rubbery feeling of his glove, she turned her face away, making herself numb to anything but the feeling beneath her fingers.

_This is a very expensive uniform._

The memory of his words lit a light bulb in her head. For the first time ever she really felt the fabric; the smooth, flexible surface giving under her fingers. He had told her to think. He had winked. _That was the trick, with Deadpool, after all_, Vanessa thought,_ there was a lot more in his head than that insane demeanor led on_. And that meant only one thing: the glove was rubber.

She worked the glove over her hand. With only one to spare, and no room for mistakes, it was delicate work. It slid easily over her fingers, dropping straight through the cuff and around her wrist. She took a deep breath, and pulled.

Her hand slid free.

Vanessa focused on the Senator, knowing she would lose her careful resolve if she checked to watch Wade's slow decent into death. She swung upwards, dropping the glove over her other hand. An instant later, her feet hit the ground. It made more noise than she would have liked, but Gregory's eyes were glued to his task, alive with a revolting joy. She ran for the door, the silvery steel glinting like a beacon of freedom in front of her.

Suddenly there was a skittering clank. Her foot had met a metal something. Vanessa ducked, glancing to see if she had been caught. But it was only Wade's handgun, gleaming black in the dim glow of the room.

Her insides went to war instantly. The door was so close, nearly one pace away. But the gun was right there, even closer. She could end this, end it now. There wasn't any time to lose.

She snatched up the gun and continued running, hauling around the silo with a speed she hadn't matched since she was about fifteen years old, a gangling tracklete.

The Governor let out a sudden roar, "WHERE IS THE GIRL?"

Gregory whipped around, lab coat flying as he sized up the empty shackles. His eyes settled on the platform behind Thorton. The Governor turned slowly, staring straight into the barrel of a handgun.

"How-?"

Vanessa grinned darkly, "Ancient Chinese secret."

She pulled back the hammer with a click.

Quicker than lightening Thorton grabbed the barrel of the gun and twisted it out of her hand. Vanessa yelped, releasing it as discharge began forming on his massive fingers. An enormous fist grabbed for her throat.

She ducked and charged backwards, tripping over the platform and onto the metal walkway. With a thump she fell, pain radiating up her tailbone, but she scrambled to her feet and took off running.

Brain reeling, she tore across the walkway, slowing only to check behind her. The Governor walked after her at a sinister pace, slow and steady, knowing the second he reached the metal platform she was his. He was the predator, she was the prey. But Vanessa's instincts were keen. She ducked as a spark of electricity broke over her head and turned down the hall into the connecting silo. There were two walkways, really, one winding on each side of the hall. If she could make it around and back to the stone side, she might be able to escape.

She raced forward, tightness growing in her chest, her neck beading with sweat. Any second now, any second she'd be dead. She rounded the final side of the second silo.

Vanessa skittered to a halt. Ahead there was a great gap between the walkways, seven, maybe eight feet across, a gargantuan air vent cycling with sharp blades some twelve feet below. It was much too wide for her to jump. It was a dead end.

Suddenly sinews of electricity became visible, beyond the gap, followed by their maker. Thorton was no longer human. His skin had blackened with the use of his powers, his body mass doubling by the second. Even from across the silo she could see the blood-shot whites of the man's eyes, the smile that lit his face as his met hers. He took a step onto the metal platform.

Vanessa took off running. She had nowhere to go, no hope left, but she pushed herself forward towards the gaping maw of the vent-gap.

_I'm not going to make it._ There was a voice screaming nonsense in her head, her instincts perhaps, and above the horrifying crackle of electricity it was suddenly clear.

_Jump_.

She felt her body coil like a spring, the muscles from the tips of her toes to the tops of her shoulders tightened with the last bit of strength she possessed, and then she jumped.

The walk way behind her roared with electricity as her toes left the ground. She was soaring, sailing through the air with adrenaline coursing through her veins. She could hear nothing; see nothing, save for the ever-encroaching stone walk she was hurtling towards.

She hit it like a sack of bricks, the edge going right to her chest and knocking the air clear out of her. The reverberation of the vent blades below her drowned out the sound of her gasps.

An angry roar came across the silo, Thorton banging the metal walkway like an enraged gorilla before he disappeared around the corner again. Vanessa gritted her teeth and pulled herself onto the ledge, rolling onto the stone and grabbing her ribs in pain.

_Wade._

She struggled to her feet and followed the edge of the silo around to the steel door. There was no use, she had to get help. With one last glance behind her she hit the button to raise the door.

Across the room, Governor Thorton had raised the handgun.

Her eyes widened as the gun went off, the bang resounding heavily on her eardrums. Surprisingly, her life didn't flash before her eyes. She went numb, thinking only that she would meet Wade in the afterlife. They could be together again.

But there wasn't pain. There was only a blur of white and black as something jumped in front of her, catching the bullet in her stead.

Vanessa's mouth dropped open as she watched Gregory Killibrew fall to the floor, a scarlet stain spreading across his prim lab coat. His eyes met hers as the breath rushed out of him, leaving him gasping.

Her lip trembled as she sank to her knees, to catch him, the thought of her eminent danger washing from her head in horror. Greg reached for her hand, weakly, and she took it, unable to form words.

"Vanessa," he choked as his slowly closing eyes studied her face, "F-Forgive me. Please."

She stroked the dark hair that had fallen over his forehead back to place and nodded. It was all she could do. Hot tears splashed down her cheeks.

It had been enough, for as his eyes finally closed, he looked at peace.

Vanessa let the Doctor's hand slide from hers, looking up and locking eyes with Thorton, who had walked over to them. She had been expecting some sympathy, for his friend and partner, but there was nothing but a monster left. He pointed the gun down at her and she scowled up defiantly.

The clank of the hammer was lost in a loud noise, far beyond the steel door. Vanessa looked into his eyes, daring him to shoot. It didn't matter anyways. She had lost everything.

But as the noise echoed again, this time louder, the Governor's face twitched his head cocking slightly as he listened. Vanessa turned her head towards the door as the sound reached her, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. It was a roar, vicious and feral, like a velociraptor and a tiger wrapped into one.

_THUD_.

The room shook. A thin crack ran from the top of the door up into the rafters of the high silo. Vanessa scurried backwards on her hands as chunks of the wall begin to crack away, Thorton's eyes flickering rapidly between her and the breaking door.

Whatever was making the sound was trying to form words. Vanessa clenched her jaw to decipher the ear-splitting call. It sounded an awful like…

"Smash?" Thorton said curiously.

The room imploded.

Vanessa screamed, throwing an arm over her head to shield herself as a ten-foot tall beast the color of burnt peas burst into the room. The steel door flew, and boulders rained down upon her, bruising her arms and legs as the avalanched surged. The monster grabbed Thorton with a great green arm and threw him against the wall, and he slid down it, blood trickling from his cracked skull.

People were pouring through the cracks. Relief washed over Vanessa as she saw the sultry Natalia jump through the doorway, followed by an iron clad man in brilliant armor. Tony. They were saved.

Vanessa looked over to where Wade had been hanging, her face glowing with success. The iron chains clinked feebly in the wind from the hall.

There was nothing left.

Her mind grew fuzzy, the world tilting sideways as she sank to her knees, her ears buzzing. Through the haze, she heard someone, a girl's voice, screaming with agony. It wasn't until her throat grew raw that she realized it was her.

A blurred, blue arm clenched strongly around her shoulders. There was an unspeakably gentle voice in her ear, one she didn't recognize, soothing her. That would have been comforting to anyone else. Anyone but her. She fought with him, straining to run, shrieking Wade's name over and over again.

Nick Fury flung himself into the room, with purpose, his eyes immediately following Vanessa's to the chains. He turned to the crowd.

"Search the site! Someone get James Howlett on the line. Immediately."

"Sir?" one of his soldiers gave him an incredulous look, "Sir…a-are you sure?"

"_IMMEDAITELY_," he boomed over Vanessa's shrieks, "And sedate the girl."

Vanessa didn't feel the prick of the needle. When the waves of darkness washed over her, she accepted them willingly, letting her mind float far, far away from this nightmare.


End file.
